


Can't Buy Me Love

by shutupeccles



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Homophobia, Humor, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:37:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 47,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupeccles/pseuds/shutupeccles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin hires a date for his high school graduation dinner. They’re never going to see each other again, especially not when Merlin’s moving across the country for University. So while it may be slightly embarrassing, it isn’t complicated …until the fellow first year hitting on Merlin turns out to be one of his hired date’s best friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Buy Me Love

#### 1\. Desperate and Dateless

…has been Merlin’s high school moniker since he was fourteen.  
He attends one of the smallest high schools in an average sized suburb. Most parents in the area pretend they live somewhere else and send their children to less beleaguered schools in neighbouring suburbs. Since his neighbour/best friend/boyfriend moved away, Merlin is the only gay student – so far as anyone knows.

~

Will and Merlin were inseparable for years. When they got together as more than friends they naturally assumed they’d grow old as a couple. They’d been sneaking in the odd snog here and there since the age of thirteen. Will’s mother remarried when they were fourteen and Will naturally stayed with Merlin while the newlyweds went on their honeymoon. The young couple nipped next door every day to feed pets, water plants, collect mail, prevent dust bunnies claiming dominion over all and sundry, and make out. They were more adept at making out than the other things, as Will’s stepfather discovered when he caught them lying in a breathless bundle of limbs on the couch. He almost dropped Will’s Mum on her arse he was so enraged to learn his wife’s son was a poofter. After shouting repeatedly at Merlin to get out he turned on Will’s mother.

“Don’t claim you didn’t know woman!”

Will tried to follow Merlin but was dragged back by the arm. Merlin could hear the argument escalating as he ran home. It continued for hours. A knock on his bedroom window at three am woke him. He let Will in and kissed him. They kissed frantically and went the furthest they’d been by touching each other inside their pyjamas. They’d had their sexual progression planned out for months and this wasn’t supposed to happen for at least another year, but such a dramatic union seemed necessary to release their fear and tension.

“Is she kicking him out?” Merlin asked.

“No.”

“She can’t be on his side after he acted like that!” Hunith had prevented more than one friendship with a man becoming romance for Merlin’s sake. Merlin felt guilty about it each time, but never for long. Hunith made sure he knew it was her decision to put the mother-son relationship first. ‘I made you, and am responsible for your well-being. If I find a man willing to fit into our family rather than recreate it in his own image then it will be different.’

“Well she is,” Will was justifiably ticked. “She went off at me for ruining everything for her. ‘I’ve been lonely for so long since your father died, surely I deserve some happiness after years of sacrifice.’ They’re going to live in his house now and sell ours instead. We’ll be hours away. Besides Mum, you’re all I’ve got.”

“Stay here, with me.”

It was the wrong thing to say, because Will did. When Will’s mother found out in the morning she took him away immediately, without packing a bag or anything. The stepfather followed and a moving van came for their things later in the week. Will tried calling once and wrote twice, but he couldn’t give Merlin the number or address to write back and his email account was shut down to prevent them having any contact.

Merlin was seen as the cursed cause of the whole, sorry situation, deemed a trouble making sexual deviant and avoided by the entire student population. His mother couldn’t afford to move or send him to a different school. For three years he made the best of it.

~

No Prince Charming or Knight Valiant is going to sweep the poor unfortunate dweeb onto the back of a motorcycle and break the jinx by taking him to the traditional grad dinner-dance, so Merlin gets a second part-time job six months before graduation and squirrels away his funds to hire a date. He’ll pick the hottest bloke he can afford. It doesn’t matter whether the guy’s an escort or a full-on prostitute as long as looking at him makes the other seniors happy in their pants.

With three weeks to go, Merlin finally finds his Boy for Sale over the internet. Only a year or two older, naturally gorgeous, sounds equally delicious on the phone, confirms bookings via webcam to ensure neither party is a seventy year old Grandpa or fifteen year old girl. Payment on Delivery, no cheques or credit, ‘refuse to pay and I beat the shit of you’ – and by the looks of that shower shot he could too.  
Oh—YUM!

#### 2\. Boy for Sale

“What’s your name?” Merlin asks when his net order date arrives. “While ‘Boy for Sale’ has a nice ring to it, I don’t want to be calling you that all night.” Not out loud anyway. In his mind that’s exactly how Merlin refers to him. His number is stored in Merlin’s mobile under BFS. Looking at him in that suit (hired by Merlin and therefore not tailored to maximise his stature) tie imperfectly knotted, with wax moulding his fiery blond hair so he looks like a surfer rather than a Ken doll, and leaning casually against his car, Merlin considers storing BFS under his bed, in his bed, on his desk, against the car…hang on, what are they talking about?

“Call me whatever you want. It’s your dollar,” BFS replies with a shrug as he opens the passenger door and walks around to the driver’s side.

He’s an absolute scorcher to look at. Ball-swelling blue eyes, masculine defined facial features, almost Roman nose, broad shoulders, not too narrow hips, comfortable looking arse, and lips that hypnotically suggest kissing for hours without fatigue. Merlin wonders if he kept enough splash cash to include a blowjob in the deal. Everything about his Boy for Sale screams stamina, athleticism and guaranteed orgasm. Built for Sex…

Shame he’s a complete arse!

“Considering how much you cost you could at least feign enthusiasm. Or perhaps you majored in phone/webcam acting, and I’m your first 3D job.”

“I can give your deposit back if you’d prefer an inflatable date,” BFS smirks, reaching for his wallet.

Smarmy git.  
Sexy smarmy git.  
Sexy, sexy, smarmy.  
Sexy, sexy, sexy…

Merlin’s brain becomes stuck on that point like the stylus on his mother’s record player consistently sticks at ‘you sexy thing, sexy thing you’ on her Hot Chocolate record. “Pick your own name while we drive along. Shift whatever percentage of your fee buys naming privileges into the friendly smile column.”

It sounds like BFS murmurs ‘spitfire’ but he might just be sucking air through his teeth in irritation. “I’m not calling you love names.”

“Thank Christ for small mercies. So then Boy for Sale, what’s your name?”

“Oliver.”

Merlin laughs.

“Ah, you got that reference did you?” BFS is far sexier when he smiles. The igloo of strangeness around them cracks a little and begins to melt along the break.

“I did.”

“Tell me how we met then Merlin, for when someone asks.”

“No-one will ask. I became invisible once my boyfriend left town.”

“So you’re properly gay then?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You get a lot of pranksters in this line of work.” BFS states it calmly and Merlin feels silly for getting so defensive.

“Oh. Yes, I’m properly gay.”

“You realise dancing costs extra?”

“I allowed for that.” Merlin didn’t pay for it up front in case he isn’t in the mood later on.

“The last poor dweeb didn’t.”

“You should list your wares like a motel breakfast menu. Then we can tick everything we want and budget accordingly.”

BFS chuckles and zips between two cars to reach the necessary traffic lane. “I’m merely a fly-by-night. The base rate stays the same, details vary dweeb to dweeb. This is how I’ve been financing my gap year.”

“Had a dweeb punch you in the face for being an arrogant twat?” Merlin asks irritably.

“No,” he answers without taking offence.

“Tonight could be a first for you then.”

“Doubt that,” BFS counters smugly. “I’ve had more than one guy offer me his car to spend the night.”

“If this is one of them, your bedside manner clearly fails to live up to expectations.”

BFS laughs as he expertly parks across the road from Merlin’s school. “I always said no. Cash only.”

“So what does my deposit cover ‘Oliver’?” Merlin asks to clarify before opening the door.

“Friendly chit-chat, hand holding, public grab on the arse if you want one, pretending you’re the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me and that I can’t wait to gobble your knob in the nearest unlocked classroom. Actually doing that costs you more.” He smiles as he says it and his head does this unpretentious flick to get a stray bit of fringe out of his eye.

“Course it does.” So, he’s a sexy smarmy git with a sense of humour. Merlin wouldn’t mind having enough money to buy him outright.

“No refund if you manage to pick up, dramatic break up scene costs extra.”

“How many of those have you done?” Merlin can’t imagine there’d be many.

“None. They’d rather spend the same money to feel my hand down their pants than go off with the bloke they were trying to make jealous in the first place.”

‘How much to feel your lips around my cock?’ Merlin wonders as they get out of the car.

BFS links his fingers with Merlin’s. “No, this doesn’t feel right. Change sides.” Merlin can feel the different layers of the unusual ring on Oliver’s index finger as they switch hands. Merlin repeats the pseudonym in his head. “This seems more like ‘us’, agreed?”

It does feel more natural. “You’re the professional,” Merlin quips and hopes his dimples assure Oliver he doesn’t mean it as an insult.

Oliver chuckles. “You’re the least demanding date I’ve had. You could do this job.”

“No-one would hire me.” He can’t get a date for free, for Christ’s sake.

“Course they would. You’d be surprised how desperate lonely people can be.”

This remark makes the indicator on Merlin’s wank-o-meter shift away from ‘sexy with sense of humour’ back to ‘arrogant arsehole’. “That padding so recently added to your wallet equals an evening of feigned praise and adoration. I already have a life-time supply of insults free of charge, thank you.”

Merlin concludes this was a stupid idea as they enter the hall without speaking. This is already proving to be a complete waste of money. Neither the Sixth Years setting up nor the graduating class will believe a dweeb like Merlin snagged a shallow, arrogant hottie like ‘Oliver’. A reassuring squeeze of his hand takes him by surprise.

“It’ll be fine.”

“What if you find someone you want to hook up with?” Why didn’t Merlin think of that before? He’ll be a greater pariah than before and out of pocket for the privilege.

“I’m on the clock. There’d be no point anyway. I’m not from anywhere near here and Uni starts after summer. I have no intention of flitting back here during breaks when I’m bound to be snowed under with assessment tasks. Plus I’m hoping to get plenty of on-campus shags.”

Oliver pulls out Merlin’s chair at the long central table then leans down to ask if he’d like a drink. His fingers touch the back of Merlin’s neck affectionately. Damn, he’s convincing! Merlin watches him line up at the temporary bar, not that there’ll be any liquor for sale. Half the class are underage when it comes to alcohol and cigarettes. A gaggle of girls immediately flock around Oliver. Eventually one word is heard clearly.

“Him?” the gaggle voice their disbelief as a unit.

“Him.”

“What a loss to the gene pool!”

“You can do better than that, surely!”

“You clearly don’t know Merlin like I do. If you’ll excuse me,” Oliver dismisses them with a tone that is somehow politely disrespectful. Merlin’s wank-o-meter is unable to give an accurate reading because the indicator has been in constant motion all evening. Oliver brings their drinks to the table and stretches an arm across the back of Merlin’s chair to whisper in his ear. “This isn’t going to work if you don’t behave as though I’m here with you.”

“You aren’t here with me. You’re here with my money,” Merlin murmurs into his glass.

“These people don’t know that.” Fingers stroke the back of Merlin’s neck again. Merlin closes his eyes as lust plays his spine like a xylophone.  
Unholy Fuck!

#### 3\. Private Dancer

Merlin and his BFS chat about piffle all through the meal and banter as though they really are a couple. Oliver’s laughter is so contagious their section of table quickly becomes the most energetic.

“So how did you meet him?” Sophia asks, making it clear that Oliver is a demi-god and Merlin a steaming dog turd.

“Well Merlin?” Oliver asks.

“I’ll let you tell this one Oliver.” They’ve been taking it in turns telling stories of places they’ve been and experiences they’ve shared, managing to feed off each other’s creativity to weave something plausible every time. They smile at their audience and each other a lot.

“If I must, although it reveals me for the hopeless romantic I am.” Merlin nearly drowns in his drink. “It was his delightful dimples that reeled me in, see. He walked in to my favourite ice-cream parlour – you know the one where there’s none of that wholesome dairy-free rubbish…”

“So you aren’t really vegetarian?” Sophia asks. Her neglected date asks if Merlin’s really gay or if that’s a put on for attention too. Oliver scolds him for not mentioning his dietary prejudices.

“I only went in there for you.” Merlin responds in a heartbeat. He hasn’t been a vegetarian since Will left, finding solace in the foods they denied themselves. None of these people deserve to know that.

Oliver leans to whisper in Merlin’s ear while doing that xylophonic, finger on neck thing. “Nice one.” The kiss he plants on Merlin’s neck takes Merlin by surprise. Merlin wishes he had a car to sell for cash as Oliver turns back to Sophia. “How can I resist someone who compromises their morals just to smile at me, especially with a smile like Merlin’s?”

He’s so good at spreading conversational fertilizer that Merlin has to continually remind himself that everything Oliver says is complete bollocks. ‘Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks,’ he chants as those lying lips press against his cheekbone. The litany successfully prevents Merlin turning to kiss him back. There’s bound to be a surcharge for that. 

The other graduates seem to be buying it too. No-one looks at Merlin with disbelief as he dances with his rent-a-date, only envy. They talk quietly, though rarely during the slow dances. It feels like it did when he danced with Will. His head rests on Oliver’s shoulder and he quickly snaps upright. How can he be comparing Will with this prostitute escort?

“If my dancing’s that dull we could always add a bit of…”

“No. I wasn’t sleeping,” Merlin answers quickly. He doesn’t want to know what they could add a bit of. He wants this pretence to stop. It isn’t Oliver’s fault that he’s having such a good time and yet it is. Merlin doesn’t know what to do now.

“Stop for a drink perhaps?”

“Alright.” Merlin is confused by blurring lines. Oliver keeps behaving like a boyfriend. His gestures and language are natural, not exaggerated. Their established rapport doesn’t feel fake. When Oliver asks Merlin to dance again he says yes. He receives a blunt reminder that none of this is real a few songs later.

“If you want to top the night off with a snog…”

“That’s extra,” Merlin finishes for him, suddenly weary of the whole thing again.

“Ah,” Oliver hesitates. He must be equally tired of pretending to find Merlin interesting.

Merlin hasn’t been kissed since Will climbed in through his window and he’s being played like a xylophone by eight fingers instead of four. “How much?” he asks in a tell-tale exhale that takes the edge off the question. Oliver whispers an amount without his earlier buoyancy. “You can’t be serious!”

“It wouldn’t cost so much if it wasn’t worth every cent.”

“No simple snog could be wor-” oh god, it is! How can two mouths meeting cause a reaction like that through his whole body? Kissing Will, making Will come with his hand, Will making him come, none of that felt so damn erotic as this kiss. After a lengthy snog that is definitely worth the money, Oliver makes another offer.

“Going back to your place, mine or even the car for the whole shebang is double what you’ve already paid.” He says it seductively, directly into Merlin’s ear as though saying ‘make love to me Merlin’ instead of giving a price check. “If you’re up for it,” he adds with a suggestive move of their hips. One part of Merlin’s up for it and what he feels growing between them fosters the illusion but he knows that even if he could afford it, his answer would be the same.

“No thanks.”

“Then I’m calling time on this job.”

Boy for Sale starts putting distance between them and Merlin wonders why he feels like he’s just been dumped. Merlin closes the distance and expresses his displeasure in Oliver’s ear. “Our deal was the whole formal. Leave now and you owe me a refund.” Merlin sticks to the reality of the situation.

“You reckon, Spitfire?”

“I reckon I can complain to those companies sponsoring your net ad if you’ve got a problem upholding your end of the agreement. Or make my own page to …” he’s interrupted by an attempt to kiss him again. “Stop wheedling money out of me. You’ve already bled my savings account dry you succubus.”

“Is that the only reason you said no to more?”

“Not the only reason. But it certainly made the top three,” Merlin admits. BFS tries to kiss him again. “I just finished telling you!”

“This one’s on the house.”

Merlin’s wank-o-meter spent the majority of the evening on ‘sexy with a sense of humour’ so he can’t resist this particular offer. His established opinions of possible and impossible become redundant when this snog surpasses the one he paid for. Oliver starts chattering on about piffle again. His comfortable manner and the free kiss make Merlin wonder how much of the evening has been bullshit and how much the genuine male behind the price tag. He hopes there has been more truth than lies because Oliver seems to genuinely like Merlin and Merlin certainly likes Oliver.

“Can I call you?” Merlin asks after he receives a bonus kiss goodnight on his doorstep.

“Sure you can, once your bank account’s full again.” BFS pats the fattened wallet in his hired jacket with a friendly grin.

Merlin is a mass of anger, resentment, dejection and rejection as he makes his lonely way through the front door. Oliver doesn’t even know what a heartless arsehole he is.

PRAT!

#### 4\. Hello

Merlin is housed in the scholarship dorm. That isn’t its actual name, but apparently students have called it that for generations. Merlin wouldn’t have travelled across the country and be surrounded by strangers if universities closer to home offered full scholarships. Not that he would have been surrounded by friends. He grumbles his story to the uncaring door of his allocated room as he jiggles the key in the wretched lock.

“You too? That’s my room by the way,” his female neighbour mentions cheerily as Merlin checks the room numbers. Her dimples are delightful, which makes him think of that sexy, smarmy git Oliver and their phony meet-up story. He scowls some more. “Fine then,” she frowns. Her dark eyes seem to darken like chocolate buttons scorched in the microwave.

“Sorry, I’m not grumpy at you. Just, emotional baggage, you know?” Merlin insists defensively and tries to smile in apology. Dimples, don’t fail me now.

“If I carried as many possessions as I do emotional baggage, I’d be a wealthy woman,” she laughs in understanding.

“Me too, not the woman part, obviously.” He extends his hand politely. “I’m Merlin.”

“Gwen.” Her delightful dimples make a successful return to centre stage. Merlin has seen this phenomenon before in the way Sophia twinkled at Oliver. Gwen’s flirting with him!

“I’m sure I specified a gay dorm to improve my chances of bonking at least one of my neighbours.”

“I specifically wrote ‘willing to share with hetero males only’ on my application in vivid green ink, with carefully labelled diagrams. Looks like that plan was an epic fail,” Gwen happily admits defeat.

“They’re forcing us to concentrate on our studies by removing all immediate sources of casual fornication!” Merlin declares, as though the university is feeding them rats for dinner.

“Enforced abstinence isn’t my cup of tea either. Want a hand with your crap? I meant valuables.” Gwen grimaces at her gaff and Merlin laughs at Gwen’s grimace.

“Let’s face it, if I had valuables I’d be housed in a different dorm.”

After unpacking Merlin’s crap – “Call this a room? It’s a cell! They really do mean to turn me into a monk” – Gwen gives him a tour of their floor and building. They take out their campus maps, locate the most important places – dining hall, bars, canteens, swimming pool, bus stops – and find as many of the three dimensional counterparts as possible before returning to the dining hall for dinner. Gwen has all the characteristics Merlin cherishes in a person: wit, friendliness, cheer, expressive facial features that hint at everything she’s thinking, no fear of strangers. All she needs is a penis and Merlin would be asking her back to his room. It’s nice to know the feeling’s kind of mutual.

“Why is it always gay boys I hit it off with like this?” Gwen laments. “Something about me must say ‘Let’s be friends’ when I mean ‘bonk me now’!”

“You could skank it up a bit. I hear straight boys like their girls the way I like my breakfast eggs – over easy.”

“That analogy’s just…awful.” It doesn’t stop Gwen chuckling though.

They attend Orientation Week activities together, never staying too long or getting too drunk because neither of them are party animals. In fact, they were both deemed socially inept and inadequate during high school.

“Now is our time to shine Merlin. Forget all the rubbish that happened before and embrace the life we could have had if we’d dared tell our detractors where to shove it and how far.”

Merlin is convinced by Gwen’s enthusiasm. Being sensible enough to exchange mobile numbers in case one of them needs an excuse to bail on a bad hook up, or simply needs bail, curbs their confidence somewhat as neither manages to hook up once.

It turns out they are both pursuing teaching careers. Gwen aims to become a primary school teacher, covering all key learning areas and hoping for early to middle primary classes. The late primary students are too close to high school age and attitudes for Gwen. Merlin intends to teach the sciences to high school students. 

“Hopefully by then they can blow their own noses and have stopped peeing in their pants,” he explains with a smile.

“Hopefully,” Gwen smiles back. They doubt they’ll share any subjects but take out their timetables just in case.  
They have one lecture together, Pedagogy 1A on Tuesdays.

“What in the name of ridiculous sounding words is pedagogy?” Merlin asks.

“Teaching, you nit.”

“It sounds like a foot fetish.”

Gwen laughs along.

After the first two weeks acclimatising to his new surrounds Merlin discovers that he has a friend in the adjacent cell; a mattress free of bedbugs; no bodily fluid stains on any of his walls, floor or furniture; the toilets flush; the showers work; he remembered to pack all his underwear and outer clothing; and the food provided in the dining hall is entirely edible. His first day of lectures and tutorials is a breeze.

Something suckful is bound to happen.

#### 5\. I Will Follow Him

He’s a wee bit late to Pedagogy 1A on Tuesday. His Chemistry 1A tutorial ran overtime and he misread the map. The campus is so huge, going to the wrong building and finding his way to the correct one costs him another ten minutes. Merlin hurries to the closest empty seat and tries to remove pen and lecture pad from his bag as quietly as possible. Of course his bag then tips over as he puts it down and the contents spill noisily beneath the seats immediately in front of him.

Crap!

Two heads turn back and up to deliver similar expressions of dismay. The nearest has dark brown eyes, with dark, chin-length wavy hair and equally dark stubble. The second is blue-eyed, blond, clean-shaven and frozen in shock as he and Merlin recognise each other.

Mega crap!

Merlin has travelled cross-country for university only to end up face-to-face with the pratful Boy for Sale he hired for graduation. He wonders who is in the more shameful position: the guy paid to be some high school boy’s date, or the boy who paid him. He concedes it’s probably the boy who paid him, seeing as Merlin has yet to delete the mobile number stored under BFS.

The lecturer calls up the amphitheatre. “You there – disruptive, tardy person in the upper row! Come down here and put your name on a tutorial sheet. Do it now.” Professor Lake waves a sheet of paper in the air and continues her introductory lecture. Great, only one tutorial session doesn’t clash with those already set. Four pm Friday, the crappiest tutorial time ever scheduled!

On the upside, Mr Dark-eyes Wavy-hair checks Merlin out all the way back to his seat, going so far as to turn and watch him sit down. “Hello there,” he drawls, draped alluringly over the back of his seat as he continues ogling Merlin. Someone clearly has no sense of the word ‘subtle’.

“At least pretend to show some restraint, Gwaine.” Boy for Sale tells him off with a tone implying this is a constant admonition that Gwaine never listens to.

Gwaine winks at Merlin and turns forward. Merlin notices the companion on the other side of BFS also has dark brown eyes and dark, wavy hair as he shoots Gwaine a glance of disdain. Merlin thinks BFS sits between them like a piece of golden cheese between two hunks of pumpernickel. He probably shouldn’t have skipped breakfast this morning. At least the food metaphor stops him dwelling on how inhumanly gorgeous the three of them are. The last thing he needs to be distracted by is images of orgies starring Gwaine, his clean-shaven bookend and their mutual friend, the male prostitute.  
Unholy fuck!

Merlin’s hands are in for a busy time tonight.

Gwaine keeps bending down to pick up Merlin’s dropped items and handing them back – one at a time.

“For crying out loud Gwaine, ask for Merlin’s name and number and be done with it!” BFS grumbles haughtily.

“How’d you know his name’s Merlin?” the other hunk of pumpernickel asks with undisguised curiosity.

“Because, Lancelot,” BFS swishes the fancy biro he’s writing with, “it’s engraved on his pen.” He passes the pen Hunith gave Merlin as a graduation gift to Gwaine, who then uses it to write his name, mobile number and on-campus address on a piece of paper. BFS glowers at the hand passing pen and paper back to Merlin, then at Merlin’s hand accepting pen and paper, then at Merlin’s face.

Merlin suspects this is some sort of set up. Gwaine and BFS are clearly friends. Gwaine is clearly a rake. Merlin is financially limited. BFS knows this. Therefore they can’t be planning to gangbang and rob him. BFS doesn’t seem impressed by Merlin gaining Gwaine’s attention so they can’t be planning to gangbang Merlin and put it on rudetube or something. Does BFS want to be more than friends with Gwaine?

Merlin calls Gwaine’s mobile to test the waters and hears it buzz in Gwaine’s pocket. Gwaine reaches down to answer it. “Just checking it’s a real number,” Merlin says quietly and hangs up as Gwaine chuckles. He jots his name and mobile number on the bottom half of Gwaine’s paper, tears it off and passes it forward.

Gwaine reads the note, folds it and tucks it into his jeans with a nudge to BFS’s ribs and a victorious grin. BFS responds with a vaguely paternal look that makes Merlin think of an apathetic parent telling their child that thing they made is ‘very nice, go play outside’ and then putting the heartfelt creation in the bin while the child isn’t looking. Merlin thinks he must look desperate, giving his details to a guy he hasn’t even met. But then, Gwaine gave Merlin his details first. And he’s hot!

Gwaine turns around as soon as the lecture is over. “I will be calling you later. Be naked.”

“I think I just jizzed my pants,” Merlin’s response is disjointed because it isn’t far from the truth.

“I know I did,” Gwaine replies with a smouldering look as he leaves Merlin standing in a bubble of WOW!

BFS tells his matching set of friends he’ll meet them at the Sporties canteen after a quick word with Professor Lake. He prevents Merlin going after them by stepping on the strap of his bag. Merlin kicks the foot off and shoulders the bag.

“You may not have noticed Toto, but we’re not in high school anymore.”

BFS grabs a corner of Merlin’s sleeve. “Tell Gwaine we’ve already met and how, and you’ll be floating along the river in bite size pieces.”

“Do you always threaten strangers?” Merlin quips and BFS calms down. 

“Sorry. I didn’t think you were a complete idiot but I couldn’t take that chance. Lancelot and Gwaine know nothing about that.”

“For both our sakes it better stay that way. Mr Smoulder-holes-in-my-jeans won’t bother calling one of your dweebs.”

“About Gwaine, he’s got no morals, positively none. You be careful.”

“You threaten to turn me into fish food then warn me off your friend, are you always so consistent? Or perhaps you want him for yourself?” Merlin’s mind wavers between taking his caution as genuine and dismissing it as jealousy.

BFS ignores Merlin’s barb. “Gwaine’s a six foot, constantly lit, roman candle. You may be a spitfire Merlin but I doubt you’ll fare well when he goes off. He’s a man-eater.”

“Then he better be hungry.” Merlin strides off before BFS causes more confusion. It isn’t until he turns to see BFS gone that Merlin realises he doesn’t know his real name.

#### 6\. Call Me

Gwaine texts him at nine pm: get naked, I’m about to call.

Merlin doesn’t get naked although it sure is tempting.

“You better be naked too,” is how Merlin answers the phone and is thankful for caller identification. That’s one phrase he never wants to say to his mother.

“Fresh out of the shower,” Gwaine replies and Merlin’s imagination goes to Rio as Gwaine talks nothing but smut to him for twenty eight minutes. “Shit, my boys are home and I’m on the couch with a giant hard on peeping through my towel!” Merlin hears Gwaine bound through his on-campus residence. A door closes and Gwaine puffs into the phone. “That was close. Lancelot’s always telling me off for wanking in the shared living areas. Now where were we?”

“You were describing the path your tongue wants to take along my clavicles.” Merlin’s pants are on the floor and his cock is in his hand.

“Oh god yeah. Let me get into position here.” Merlin hears the familiar sound of a mattress shifting under a person’s weight followed by the simple, involuntary breath taken by a man enjoying the feel of fingers stroking his cock. “So I plan to start at…”

They exchange naughty thoughts and wank together. Merlin feels no shame in coming first. This is his first raunchy phone conversation and it’s been magnificent from start to finish.

“Hearing you come makes me wonder what you look like right now. I want to make you do it in person. I want to feel your cum land on me.” Gwaine makes a series of short, sharp grunts and then exhales in relief. Merlin gives his drooping cock and balls another squeeze. “I’m calling you earlier tomorrow so we can actually talk you lust bunny, text me with an appropriate time. Right now I’m heading for another shower before my boys use all the hot water. I will be calling back.”

Gwaine calls back Wednesday and Thursday night as well. Apart from a few flirty comments they have normal conversations. Merlin learns that Gwaine and ‘his boys’ have been friends for years, inseparable throughout high school. They only spent their gap year apart because they couldn’t agree on where to go or what to do, and called each other regularly for the first month until the erosion to their budgets became noticeable. They signed up for shared on-campus accommodation the moment they discovered there was a university willing to educate all three of them. “We’re co-dependent!” Gwaine exclaims with pride.

“You’re insecure knobs,” Merlin replies.

“Hey, if your mate Will hadn’t been spirited away, you two would be like us.”

“If Will hadn’t been spirited away I probably wouldn’t be with you,” Merlin tells him honestly.

Gwaine changes the topic. They only have one course subject in common, Pedagogy 1A, same as Gwen. Merlin feels guilty about not scanning the hundreds of faces in the lecture theatre to look for his friend. He’d been so thrown off by seeing BFS and then openly admired by Gwaine that he forgot Gwen was there. They haven’t been in the dining hall at the same time for dinner since Monday. Tuesday Merlin stayed in his dorm room, eating generic cheese and generic salami on generic crackers while he waited for Gwaine to call. Wednesdays he has a biology practical that finishes at six pm. Thursdays he has chem prac from six pm til eight. Despite throwing Gwaine in his path, it seems the Universe does not want Merlin getting laid.

He shares this theory with Gwaine.

“Have no fear Merlin. The Universe hasn’t managed to beat me in a fight yet. Lancelot’s declaring lights out.” Gwaine presses the phone to his chest to yell at Lancelot. Merlin can tell because of the soft thud of Gwaine’s heartbeat in his ear, almost as if Merlin’s lying on his chest. He likes it. “I heard you; you pair of cock-blocking Sergeant Majors! Yes, it’s Merlin. What?” Gwaine’s heartbeat is replaced by silence.

Merlin sits up on his bed and checks the call status because he doubts the Sgt Majors killed their housemate. Still connected, definitely muted on Gwaine’s end. What the …? Should he wait or assume Gwaine’s an arrogant arsehole like his blond boy and disconnect the call?

“Yoo-hoo, Merlin? You there?” Gwaine asks suddenly.

“Nope, are you?”

“Not entirely. I only have half an arse left since my boys chewed the other half off over leaving the milk out of the toilet, or not flushing the fridge, or whatever they feel like ganging up on me about this time.”

“Are they ‘together’, your boys?”

“What a couple they’d make!” Gwaine laughs. “Lancelot’s straight and Arthur doesn’t know what he wants.”

“You mean he’s bi?”

“I’m bi Merlin. I mean he doesn’t know what he wants. Only what he doesn’t, which consists of anything involving me. So many opportunities for threesomes wasted. Cock tease. Anyway, as I’m not the one paying for our accommodation I must obey orders from my superior officers and say goodnight to Merlin. So, goodnight Merlin, I will call you again.” 

“Goodnight Gwaine.” Gwaine signs off cheerfully enough but Merlin isn’t as cheerful as he disconnects. He has a lot to think about.

Gwaine’s bi, so he’s not just a man-eater. Oliver’s name is Arthur. Oliver, who is Arthur, doesn’t know what he wants, only that it isn’t Gwaine. Gwaine claims the Universe hasn’t beaten him in a fight, but it seems to Merlin like he fought for Arthur more than once and didn’t win either time. Gwaine muted his phone after telling Lancelot and Arthur he was talking to Merlin. Is Gwaine using Merlin to make Arthur jealous?

_He has no morals…you be careful._

Merlin thinks perhaps he should take that advice after all.

#### 7\. Love on the Menu

Gwen and Merlin catch each other at breakfast and simultaneously try to apologise for neglecting their first on-campus friend. All is forgiven after comparing timetables and discovering they won’t have much social time together during the week this semester. Monday, Tuesday dinner and Friday lunch looks to be the maximum. Gwen forgives Merlin for Tuesday all over again when he tells her about meeting someone.

“You lucky sod!” Gwen enthuses jealously.

“That’s enough of that language.”

“I know comparing you to a lump of dirt isn’t very flattering,” Gwen begins in dimpled apology.

“You really don’t know what that’s short for do you?” Merlin smiles at her naïve confusion. “Never mind then. Have you made any other friends?”

They agree to meet up for lunch at the Chalkie cafeteria. Unlike Merlin, who is a Chalkie-Boffin hybrid and can therefore enjoy the privileges of both education and science student unions, Gwen’s a thoroughbred Chalkie and can only join one student union.

“Sucks to be you,” Merlin declares as he leaves the table and Gwen pegs her empty single-serve cereal box at his backside.

Fridays are upside down for Merlin. He has the first three hours free, then a tutorial for the mathematics class only offered through distance ed. This is followed by a two hour gap, then statistics and then his final tutorial of the week, Pedagogy 1A. By which time Merlin expects his brain to be dead. In preparation for impending brain death he naps away the first three hours instead of hitting the library to study his set readings. It’s only first week. He’ll get the routine right next time.

“Merlin!” Gwen’s voice calls across the Chalkie cafeteria at lunch. 

Of course she’s standing and waving madly to ensure Merlin and everyone else knows where she is. That girl has no shame. Merlin has a difficult time believing her wallflower stories when she carries on like this. Then again, he has a difficult time believing his own after a few days of exposure to Gwaine. He waves back and eventually breaks through the crowds like a surfer through a tubular wave. Not that he’s ever tried surfing, or been near a beach, but it certainly looks like it feels awesome – much like the masculine trio he is surprised to see gathered at Gwen’s circular table. Gwaine lifts a recently abandoned chair and places it between his seat and Gwen’s, though noticeably closer to his.

BFS clearly isn’t happy about Merlin joining them. ‘His name is Arthur!’ Merlin reminds himself and repeats the name in his head until it sounds ridiculous. ‘Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur.’

“This is him,” Gwen is all brightness and pride as if she made Merlin herself and now he’s won first prize in something, “my neighbour and first friend on campus that I was telling you about.”

“We’ve met.” Gwaine brings his seat a little closer to Merlin’s so he can comfortably put an arm around him.

“So you’re the hottie keeping him in all night.” Gwen makes it sound like they’re sex addicts when this is the first time they’ve made physical contact. First week doesn’t allow for much beyond chasing down text books, readings booklets and other crap essential to tertiary education.

“I may have mentioned you to Gwen, once, this morning, over breakfast.” Merlin’s explanation comes to an end when Gwaine suddenly starts snogging him. It isn’t as entrancing as either snog he received from Arthur at graduation but Gwaine’s certainly enthusiastic. Merlin snogs back.

“Did you have to call him over Guinevere? It’s bad enough coming home to find Gwaine wanking while talking to him on the phone, let alone sitting next to them while we’re trying to eat.” Arthur’s comment isn’t sharp but it severs the hormonal rush binding Merlin’s mouth to Gwaine’s.

“Guinevere?” Merlin chortles as if this is the reason he came up for air.

“That is my name,” Gwen replies haughtily.

“You never told me Gwen was short for something posh.”

“You never asked.” Her eyes turn to Arthur and sparkle.

Oh god, another one!

“Do you collect naturally tan people with brown curly hair and dark brown eyes for a reason, or are they simply drawn to you like children to an ice-cream van?” Merlin asks. It’s meant to be a joke but it comes out sounding rather mean. Arthur may not know what he wants but he seems to know what he likes in a phenotype and blue-eyed, black-haired, fair-skinned Merlin clearly isn’t it. Luckily Gwaine laughs and the blue eyes starting to narrow angrily return to normal, then smile. 

“You may be onto something there Merlin. Guinevere tells us her fun, goofy neighbour is a science major. Perhaps you could write a thesis on this strange pattern over which I have absolutely no control.” So Arthur is equally charming when he isn’t being paid.

Gwen laughs and not in a giddy, flirty, girlie way, gaining Arthur and Lancelot’s full attention.

“So are you waiting until you have a room full of us then hosting a gang-bang with Arthur in the middle?” Gwaine provides a distraction. He must be thinking along the same lines as Merlin. Not about the gang-bang, although now that the seed has been planted in Merlin’s imagination…

“I said no to you for a reason Gwaine.”

“Are you all gay?” Gwen asks in despair.

“Gwaine’s bi,” Lancelot replies.

“Lancelot’s Straight,” Arthur contributes, as if this is some ritual they’ve performed for years.

“And Arthur’s…” Gwaine is interrupted.

“…had enough of this conversation,” Arthur declares.

Gwaine rapidly taps out a text to Merlin without his hand or phone leaving his pocket. Merlin’s mobile sings ‘Booty Call’ and Gwaine grins to hear the ring-tone assigned to his number.

Merlin laughs as he reads Gwaine’s message: a virgin. “Hardly!”

Arthur stares at Gwaine as though ordering his immediate execution. “That would be it,” he says coldly. “Sorry Guinevere, it was nice to meet you.” This time his voice and gaze are warm. Arthur takes her hand and kisses her fingers between the first and second knuckle as if she were a Dame of the realm. He doesn’t say anything to Merlin before leaving the table.

“When are you going to grow up Gwaine?” Lancelot asks and follows Arthur. He nods to Gwen like a loyal servant to his queen.

“Hang on, wait for me.” Gwen shoots an apologetic look and hurries after Lancelot – or maybe Arthur. They both appear equally happy to have her company.

“Well, that guaranteed us some privacy.” Gwaine grins again. Merlin wonders if that’s his natural expression. “You, me, at one of the Union bars tonight. You can pick. Just not Chalkies or Sporties, I don’t want to put up with Arthur’s lectures on inappropriate public contact.”

“LabRats?” Merlin suggests. May as well let his fellow science students know he’s neither desperate nor dateless from the outset.

“I’ll meet you at your dorm room at 9:30. Be dressed.”

#### 8\. Dizzy

Before his first proper date with Gwaine, Merlin must survive the late afternoon pedagogy tutorial. Gwaine manages to irritate Arthur and Lancelot before the lesson starts by making a beeline for Merlin.

“Do the three of you always travel in a pack?” Merlin asks. That original image of a Pumpernickel and cheese sandwich refuses to be erased by the knowledge that Lancelot isn’t into men. If anything, Arthur has changed from cheese to honey, seeping into Merlin's life…

“Not always, just mostly.” Gwaine chuckles as Arthur and Lancelot sit at the opposite side of the room.

Merlin wonders what makes their trio tick. Lancelot and Gwaine have similar features with opposing personalities. Lancelot is calm and polite, Gwaine is reputedly a loose cannon. Oliver…

Merlin internally repeats Arthur’s name to separate actual Arthur from Boy for Sale Oliver. His name is Arthur, Arthur, Arthur and we never met, never met, never met. We did not snog, did not snog, did not snog and he did not almost make me jizz by stroking the back of my neck.

“You okay?” Gwaine asks through Merlin’s preventative litany.

“Fine,” apart from the hormonal xylophone that reverberates through his spine when he least expects it.  
Merlin finds it easier to keep the past where it belongs as the session continues. ‘Arthur’ is a colder, quieter character than ‘Oliver’, concentrating on completing the set tasks with Lancelot and the others in their group. Gwaine and Merlin’s group are noisy yet productive. Merlin admits that their effort is pretty darn good until Lancelot gives a quality presentation on behalf of his group.

“I’ve been out-geeked by a jock,” Merlin half despairs.

Gwaine takes it in his stride. “You’ll get used to being bested by Lancelot. We all do.” He smiles across the room at his friends to show he doesn’t regret being in the ‘inferior’ group. Lancelot’s return smile carries hints of ‘oh really?’ and Arthur ignores him as Gwen arrives late.

Gwen starts heading for Merlin’s table as she explains to the tutor that she has to change groups due to a timetable reshuffle and stops midsentence as she spies Arthur and Lancelot. “I’ll just join this group for now.” She almost falls into the vacant seat across from them and their group becomes more verbose during the next task. There’s a lot more laughter from that side of the room too.

Merlin gets that old high school feeling that they’re laughing at him. He drives his group to work harder this time. “I know it’s late on a Friday and we’ve all got places we’d rather be but if we’re doing things half-arsed now we’ll be left with no arse by mid-semester break.” So his pep talk doesn’t make sense, it’s late on a Friday and he really isn’t as enthusiastic about this task as the last one. Luckily Gwaine carries on with his usual cheer.

“We can’t have that! How will my jeans stay up all winter with no arse? My willy will freeze off!”

Merlin snorts with laughter along with the rest of their group as someone across the room says “and we can’t have that!”

“Don’t forget, 9:30,” Gwaine says sternly as the lesson ends. The finger tucking Merlin’s hair behind an ear lingers on his neck.

“For crying out loud, kiss him goodbye so we can get out of here!” Arthur complains from the door.

“As my lord commands,” Gwaine concedes.

“What a waste,” a female student mutters angrily as Gwaine gently kisses Merlin’s lips. Her anger finds its way to Merlin.

“Is this for a bet?” He hopes Gwaine doesn’t ask why he’s glaring at Arthur while asking this question. That evil, arrogant, arsehole…

“If you must know Merlin, I bet Gwaine you were too sensible and decent to go out with the likes of him. Back out now before I have to pay up. Lancelot will vouch – where’d he go?”

Arthur goes looking for Lancelot. Merlin waits for Gwaine to declare their date is off and he won’t be calling again. Gwaine starts to say something, trying a few different opening words before coming out with it. “Call me before nine if you change your mind so I’m not waiting outside your door like a pathetic twat.”

“No fear of that,” Merlin assures him. “Don’t be late.”

#### 9\. You Can Touch

What’s so bad about Gwaine?

Merlin repeatedly asks this question of his closet, the shower head, his boots, and his reflection as he brushes his teeth and takes extra time with his hair – not that anyone will be able to tell he’s bothered to comb it! He tries again and gets it looking almost to his liking. My hair’s more trouble than Gwaine, only far less entertaining.

Gwaine’s gorgeous, fun, moderately clever, built like a racehorse – which leads Merlin’s imagination along a far less innocent tangent. He glances at his watch, no time for a pre-date wank, bugger. Bugger, bugger…that word isn’t helping either because now he’s imagining Gwaine’s arse naked in front of him, full of his…

“Merlin?” Gwaine’s voice precedes a polite knock at Merlin’s door.

For the briefest, brightest flash, Merlin considers dragging him in and fucking him on the floor. Hell. Hang him head and shoulders out the window and…

“Yeah,” Merlin’s voice strains to sound human. “Just a sec.” He thinks unsexy thoughts and opens the door.

“Holy shit,” Gwaine declares, “how am I supposed to behave myself with you looking like that?!” Each syllable throbs with testosterone. He must like what he sees as much as Merlin does. There are no thoughts unsexy enough to counteract the impact of Gwaine’s appearance on Merlin’s balls, NONE.

‘Why behave?’ Merlin thinks before his brain reminds his gonads that someone with his level of inexperience might make a fool of himself by acting the sexual predator. ‘Do you want a second date with Gwaine? If not then by all means, jump him now.’ Possible humiliation proves effective weaponry against what was promising to be the hardest hard-on of Merlin’s life. He closes the door behind him before Gwaine’s attention can shift to the toilet-cubicle dimensions of his room.

“Not used to getting compliments on your appearance?” Gwaine asks as Merlin remains speechless.

“Not genuine ones,” Merlin replies. Why does Arthur’s comment about his dimples haunt him, taunt him after so many weeks?

“Then people where you hail from must be severely visually impaired. Shall we go?” So gallant, so genuine – what was wrong with Gwaine again?

“Yes, we shall.”

The LabRats Bar is anything but lifeless, as Gwaine admits he feared a roomful of geeks would be. Gwaine and Merlin lose in the first round of the snooker and darts comps, leaving them free to join the dance competition. Merlin didn’t know he could dance like this until partnered with Gwaine. Gwaine celebrates getting through the first elimination with a kiss and a squeeze of Merlin’s bum. Everything they do works as though they’ve rehearsed for weeks and they make it to the finals. Merlin’s bum is well-squeezed by then and he suggests giving the inflatable woman that is their prize to Lancelot and Arthur.

“Good call, Arthur can use her to make up numbers in the transit lanes,” Gwaine agrees and snogs Merlin at the bar.

“Save some for later, hey guys?” the peroxide favouring bargirl says with her lips puckered in distaste.

“Let them be,” her bottle-auburn colleague scolds. Merlin thinks she may be Nimueh from his physics tutorial group. “What’ll you have Merlin? Ignore Lu. She was hoping to hit on your foxy dance partner. I’d been hoping for a chance to dance with you and your swivel hips, but I can live with watching foxy enjoy the privilege.”

Nimueh and Gwaine introduce themselves with chit-chat and smiles while Nimueh pours the drinks. This is the best night of Merlin’s life.

Gwaine drinks as though he’s three people for the whole night. Merlin gives up trying to keep up after Nimueh gives him water instead of the lager he asks for. He has no idea how either of them are capable of walking and talking straight as Gwaine escorts him to his dorm. Merlin realises their sobriety is an illusion as they crash into opposite walls of the corridor upon realising this isn’t Merlin’s floor and they have to go down a level. Or is it up?

“I suggest going down,” Gwaine announces with the authority of a regular drinker. Go down he does, on Merlin, in the stairwell.

Arthur’s right, Gwaine is a man-eater.

Who would have thought the inside of a man’s mouth to be so wet, so rough, so hot, and Gwaine’s tongue is so involved in the process that Merlin’s legs are soon doubly wobbly from the influence of alcohol and giving Gwaine a pearl necklace. He can’t think straight, not beyond repetitions of ‘Holy fuck!’ at any rate. They finally locate his room after discovering they needed to go up. Neither complains about taking the scenic route.

“I’m sleeping over, yeah?” Gwaine stands proudly in Merlin’s narrow cell. Merlin sees it as a metaphor.

“Most definitely,” he replies, kisses Gwaine eagerly, accepts hands exploring inside his clothes, explores back. They remove each other’s shirts.

Gwaine kisses one arm from shoulder to fingertip then licks and sucks that finger into his mouth. Merlin’s cock knows how fantastic it feels to be in there and his other hand settles in to Gwaine’s jeans. Gwaine humps against him with Merlin’s hand trapped between them. He stops sucking Merlin’s finger and kisses his palm. “Use your mouth.”

Merlin hasn’t done this before, or been sucked off before the stairwell. He knows it’s daft to be ashamed of maintaining this level of innocence through high school, but that doesn’t stop him feeling awkward. Gwaine is encouraging without making Merlin feel juvenile or inadequate. It seems to Merlin like he’s getting off on teaching Merlin how to service him as much as the act itself.

“That’s it, lick me, now take in just a little at a time, let it out, let it in, do it again, maybe a bit more each time, if you can. Put your hand on what you can’t hold. Oh-ho yeah. Suck on that, really suck…”

Merlin’s first efforts are clumsy. Gwaine’s cock didn’t look or feel so round and long in his hand, and the taste shocks him. He didn’t think it would taste any different than sucking salt from his finger after eating bacon-flavoured crisps. He can’t think of any way to describe the various sensations. The gentle sounds Gwaine makes and his careful pelvic movements urge Merlin on. He’s enjoying sucking Gwaine’s cock as much as Gwaine’s enjoying it.

“I’m going to come, you’re so good, watch me come in your hand, then you can taste it, if you want.”

Merlin wants. Oh god it’s terrific seeing cum flow out of Gwaine. I did this, made this fucktacular guy come. It’s an aphrodisiac. Merlin licks it directly off Gwaine’s purple and still swollen cock. It doesn’t taste too nice but feels incredible on his tongue, on his lips, between his fingers.

“Yes, oohm ooh yes. Lap it up. Lick til there’s nothing left.”

Merlin wants to feel the silky skin of Gwaine’s cockhead against his cheek. He holds softening muscle against the side of his face with his sticky palm and kind of snuggles against it. Gwaine’s hand covers Merlin’s without pressing. “That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Gwaine’s other hand runs through Merlin’s hair. “Stand up so I can kiss you.”

Merlin’s knees and ankles are stiff and make bubble-wrap sounds as he moves. He kneels on Gwaine’s foot and elbows him in the groin trying to stand up. Gwaine chuckles, grunts and chuckles some more as he helps Merlin to his feet.

“Does anything bother you?” Merlin asks with a dimpled smile the moment before Gwaine kisses his lips. Tasting his cum in another man’s mouth obviously doesn’t.

“One thing bothers me and I’m not talking about it.” Gwaine’s hands roam over Merlin even though there’ll be no more orgasms tonight. “We should get to sleep.”

“You don’t have to stay. I’m a big boy.”

“I need to be here when you wake up, I want to.”

Something suddenly doesn’t sit right with Merlin. He passes it off as a combination of alcohol, first time blow jobs, first sleep over, first adult boyfriend and exhaustion.  
Is Gwaine his boyfriend, though?

They’ve talked every night since they met and hooked up tonight but nothing has been mentioned by either party regarding exclusivity. Gwaine starts snoring, a soft burring snore that steadily matures. Merlin can’t sleep yet, and not because of Gwaine’s snoring.

Gwaine has no morals … You be careful … you’re too sensible and decent to go with the likes of him

What does Merlin know about Gwaine, really? He’s entertaining; bold; has no sense of subtlety or decorum; clever but not as clever as his two best friends; found Merlin irresistible from the get go; is sporty; great dancer; supportive lover; gives fantastic head, not that Merlin has anyone to compare him to; hates football, preferring sports that pit a man (or woman) against him (or her) self; only considered taking the education electives because of Lancelot, whom he sees as a mentor.

Gwaine described their triangular friendship as: “I’m the Id, Lancelot is Buddha and Arthur’s a balance of the two, an ordinary bloke with extraordinary good looks who refuses to get off with me – or anyone else.”

Merlin wonders if Arthur’s refusal to get off with Gwaine is the one thing that bothers him.

#### 10\. Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?

After a fitful sleep, Merlin decides he’s had enough and gets up with the sun. He showers briskly then heads to the dining hall for breakfast. Seeing Gwen so chipper and cheerful in the corridor makes his hangover worse.

“Why didn’t you come to Chalkies last night? The theatre games were hilarious. Lancelot and Arthur shovelled their opponents into the clay. Arthur could have won on his own.”

“Well, he is great at shovelling shit.” How dare ‘Arthur’ judge Gwaine? Tosspot!

“Where did that come from?” Gwen asks, taken aback.

“I’m going back to bed,” Merlin grumbles through his headache.

“Merlin, did everything go alright with Gwaine?”

“That would be why I’m going back to bed.”

“You need to be careful there Merlin,” Gwen warns as if she’s his mother telling him not to play in the mud holes made by construction works.

“Oh really? Did your wonderful Arthur tell you to say that?”

“Lancelot actually,” Gwen replies loftily. “You were never this horrible the mornings after we went out. What’s gotten into you? No! Forget I asked.”

Lancelot’s warning him off Gwaine too? “What’s wrong with Gwaine?” Merlin asks. If both the bloke’s closest friends think Merlin needs to watch out then perhaps he’d better listen.

“Nothing, if you don’t want to take anything seriously.”

“They think he’s using me?” Something heavy and hard falls through Merlin's head to settle in his gut. Last night didn’t feel like that. None of this past week has felt like that, but years of being called names and treated like a reject take more than one week to erase.

“This is happening rather quick don’t you think?”

“We’re both adults Gwen. I can fuck a different bloke from a different building every night and it’s none of Arthur’s damned business.”

“Who said anything about Arthur?”

“Or yours, it’s nobody’s business but mine.”

“Perhaps it’s Gwaine who needs to watch out,” Gwen snaps at him like a poodle at a stranger and opens her door. Merlin puts a careful hand out to prevent her stepping inside.

“Sorry Gwen. Yes, this is happening faster than I’m used to. Yes I drank too much. Gwaine and I have great fun together. How am I supposed to know where this is going if so many people keep sticking their noses in? What gives his friends the right to form an opinion of me?”

“Ar- Gwaine’s friends express genuine concern for you. They know him better than anyone. Lancelot says Arthur’s never been this concerned for any of Gwaine’s previous conquests. They both trust Gwaine with their lives, just not with their sisters. Not that Lancelot has one…”

“Gwaine parties hard and swings both ways, I know that, he told me.”

“Alright then, we’ll butt out.”

“Thank you.” Merlin’s gratitude is genuine.

“May I return to my room?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” This morning hasn’t started off so well. Maybe another hour of sleep will make things better.  
It isn’t until he’s inside his cell and admiring the naked form sprawled across his bed that the word ‘conquests’ makes it through the cloying hangover haze. Merlin decides to have another, longer shower and think about things. He leaves a basic note for Gwaine – ‘showering’ – takes his kit and goes.

Under the water he wonders how to ask Gwaine whether they’re boyfriend and boyfriend without coming across as possessive or desperate. Why would Gwaine be interested in him for more than a shag anyway? He knew nothing about Merlin when he gave Merlin his details. Merlin was being naïve.

“Naïve little virgin boy,” he mutters disdainfully. Arthur knows, or correctly assumed that about Merlin and vaguely tried to warn him. Merlin decides to chalk this past week up to experience. He’s a little less innocent as a result of last night but he hasn’t done anything degrading or extreme, so there’s nothing to be ashamed of and therefore nothing to fret about. Cool logic soothes his nerves.

Talking himself into accepting last night as a one-off causes him to be surprised when he finds Gwaine waiting for him.

“Urgh, you’re a morning person.” Gwaine grumbles with his usual good humour.

“No, a sleepless person. Breakfast?”

“Not before I’ve been properly resurrected.”

“Is there a ritual for that? I can draw runes on your bum in permanent marker?”

Gwaine chuckles and smiles at Merlin. “Cold shower followed by hot coffee normally does the trick, the proper stuff, not that dining hall sludge.”

“I don’t mind eating my caffeine fix, saves wasting time on cereal.”

Gwaine chuckles again. “You’re the best thing about university, Merlin. Allow me to repay you with proper coffee.”

“Repay me for what?”

“I don’t normally smile and laugh quite as much as this. People have a tendency of running in the opposite direction or politely declining my amiable advances. You jumped right in.”

“So, I’m easy?”

“No. No. If you were easy we’d be spending the weekend in bed. Hopefully we’ll be doing that before term ends but I’ll settle for end of semester celebrations.”

Gwaine just implied we’ll be seeing each other for anywhere from three to six months from now. Guess that counts as a relationship… Merlin’s grin matches one of Gwaine’s. “Then I accept your offer of proper coffee.”

#### 11\. See My Friends

Lancelot and Arthur must be asleep or already out and about because the old, smaller style share house is quiet when Gwaine ushers Merlin through to the kitchenette. They don’t trip over any misplaced underwear on the way. There are no dishes in the tiny sink or on the narrow bench, no takeout containers in, on or around the bin. Not precisely the university bachelor pad Merlin was expecting.

Gwaine talks to Merlin about basic stuff as he makes coffee – for one.

“Where’s yours?” Merlin asks.

“Shower first, can’t mess with the sobering ritual or my bum might turn into pumpernickel.”

Merlin is grateful that Gwaine can’t see how his eyes have widened and his mouth froze into position while blowing on his coffee. Pumpernickel!

Pumpernickel has become one of those words that will never be the same again. Like ‘dimples’ or ‘banger’. Everybody has them. Or is that peculiar only to Merlin and Will? Merlin hopes Gwaine favours quick showers. He doesn’t fancy sitting here like a friendless wonder if the others show up. A few sips of coffee convert Merlin to Gwaine’s way of thinking. If tastebuds have orgasms then Merlins’ mouth is hosting an orgy of empirical proportions.

He hears the scuff-shuffle of a newly risen zombie and looks into his mug rather than at whichever housemate is making a sleepy entrance.

“Good lord Gwaine, how much did you guzzle last night? You look as pale as Merli…”

Two pair of blue eyes meet as Arthur turns around, leaning his bare bum against the edge of the bench, only to immediately leave the room again without so much as an ‘oh’.

A dozen possible responses tangle together to trip Merlin’s tongue because Arthur is naked and although Merlin tries not to look, the evidence dangles limp, ordinary and directly at eye level as Arthur walks past. Merlin is proud of not turning around to check out Arthur’s bum, glossing over the fact that he caught more than a glimpse before Arthur turned around and realised to whom he was speaking.

Should I leave? Merlin sips from his mug and ponders. Does Arthur often walk about naked in front of Gwaine? Is it to stir Gwaine up? Flaunt what he can’t have in his face, in Merlin’s face too for that matter. He hears a laugh that isn’t Arthur or Gwaine’s, followed by a gruff “not funny” from Arthur.

Lancelot greets Merlin with amusement plain on his face. “So you met our resident nudist. Not much to write home about.”

“Looks enough to do the job.” Merlin is aghast at what he just said until Lancelot laughs and then he chuckles along.

“So where’s Gwaine?” Arthur asks Merlin from the doorway, fully dressed and pretending nothing happened. Merlin hates him a little for being so good at pretending.

“I’m behind you,” Gwaine replies eerily, peering over Arthur’s shoulder like Bella Lugosi and making Merlin smile. “Wow, did you put clothes on just for Merlin? You never dress for my guests.”

“Merlin isn’t one of your usual pick-ups. Make us all coffee before I beat you with the toaster.”

“Make it yourself.”

“Pay your own rent.”

“Touché,” Gwaine raises the kettle with a flourish. “Top up Merlin?”

“Please.”

Lancelot’s lack of response as he makes toast implies this interplay between his housemates is standard behaviour. Merlin wants to ask who pays Gwaine’s rent. He might save that question for a private conversation. “Gwaine said you three went to school together. How’d you actually meet?” He asks Lancelot because he and Arthur never met, never danced, never kissed or spent an evening enjoying each other’s company. Lack of sleep means he needs to concentrate on remembering that he is Gwaine’s guest, not Arthur’s. Thankfully I was too broke to go home with him.

“I saved Arthur’s behind, luckily it wasn’t bare that day or I wouldn’t have bothered. He and Gwaine were already friends.”

“Our fathers knew each other. They were both diplomats,” Gwaine explains as Lancelot passes him some toast.

“What does your father do now?” Merlin asks him.

“He died of work-related injuries.”

“Lethal paper cut?” What kind of work-related injuries could a pen-pusher incur?

“Car bomb.”

“Oh shit! I’m sorry.” What kind of tactless moron am I?

“Why? Did you plant it, you fiend!” Gwaine jokes. “We were thirteen when it happened you would have been what, eleven?”

“Merlin is a scientific genius, Gwaine.” Arthur stands behind Merlin and grasps his shoulders as a proud father might. Merlin looks up to see him grinning at Gwaine.

“What about your father?” Merlin asks, casually shrugging Arthur’s hands off him.

“He’s still a diplomat.” Arthur opens a cupboard for a box of cereal.

“Royal Ambassador to the US,” Lancelot expounds calmly.

“That must – pay well.” Merlin starts his second cup of terrific, Gwaine-produced coffee to prevent finishing his thought out loud: ‘So why was Arthur a hooker when we met?’

“Our Arthur’s dependently wealthy,” Gwaine boasts as he sits near Merlin.

“Whereas Gwaine’s merely dependent,” Lancelot concludes with a friendly smile.

Merlin gets the feeling they do this sort of thing a lot. He’s always wanted a Boys Own Adventure type friendship like this. “Why on earth did you choose to become a sports teacher?” he asks Arthur to gloss over Gwaine’s relative poverty and hopefully gain a clue about the reason behind Boy for Sale.

“Our generation and the next lack discipline. The best way to rectify that is through education.”

“That I understand, but sports? The only thing sports teachers teach is organised bullying. That’s not discipline, that’s tyrannical abuse.”

“Spitfire!” Gwaine declares with a grin.

“Careful Gwaine,” Lancelot warns with fake solemnity, “Arthur likes spitfires.”

“But does he like male spitfires, Lancelot?”

“Keep your mouth closed unless you intend to put food in it,” Arthur threatens them both.

Gwaine uses fluent sign language to make what must be a witty retort because both Lancelot and Arthur chuckle. Merlin is surprised when Arthur signs back with equal fluency. Merlin and Will knew how to sign ‘piss off’ and ‘he’s hot’ but that was it. Gwaine and Arthur have a brief, silent conversation.

“Come on Merlin, let’s set our student cards loose on the town and gorge ourselves demented on discounted food. We can invite your pretty neighbour along,” Gwaine suggests.

“Gwaine,” Lancelot protests as Merlin stands to leave.

“Always first to assume the worst,” Gwaine says defensively.

“Always best to assume the worst,” Lancelot and Arthur reply together. “Bye Merlin.”

“Bye.”

Merlin’s boyfriend has become more fascinating. Unfortunately, so has Arthur. “How do you know sign language?” Merlin asks Gwaine as they walk to the nearest bus stop.

“The blast that assassinated my father permanently deafened my mother. Mother wasn’t in the car at the time because she’d raced into the townhouse for something she’d forgotten. They were coming to pick me up from Arthur’s birthday party. Father started the car as Mother descended the front stairs and ‘boom’.” Gwaine’s hands are in his pockets. For some reason he turns a small smile Merlin’s way. “You’re easy to talk to, like somehow you can make it all better.”

“Told you I was easy,” Merlin smiles warmly back. His Mum and Will often said he had the magical ability to hear when no-one else bothered to listen and to find the right words when no-one knew what to say. In this instance, he simply finds Gwaine easy to listen to. “So tell me more then?” he asks as they sit together on the almost empty bus.

“I stayed with the Pendragons – Arthur, his sister Morgana and their father Uther – until Mother was released from hospital. Learning sign language was difficult so Arthur learned it too, enabling me to practice. We began by using it to say rude things about people we didn’t like: suck my cock, is that your bottom or your face, the local village wants its idiot back; and swearing at teachers. That made it easier to remember proper phrases.” Gwaine has no qualms talking about this history and Merlin can relate to a lot of it. Merlin lived with his mother’s much older step-brother for a time because Hunith had trouble coming to terms with her husband’s absence. That’s how he met Will.

“Gaius died not long after Mum came to live with us again. He left her the house. Mum never remarried.”

“For a while Arthur and I thought our widowed parents might hook up and remarry. We talked about how awesome it would be to be brothers. We could pretend to be twins and when people made a comment about ‘fraternal’ as they were bound to do, people are so predictable, we’d say ‘no, identical, are you blind?’ but no such luck. Mother and I became poorer because the government made a fuss over Father’s insurance, pension whatever it was. The Pendragons stayed rich, becoming wealthier still once Uther became Ambassador to the US four years ago.”

“Did Arthur live with his mother then?” Oops, Gwaine had said both their parents were widowed.

“Arthur never knew his mother. Pre-eclampsia almost took them both. Arthur refused to go to the US, called it the Devil’s arsehole, which did not sit well with his pater. Those two were constantly at loggerheads. Morgana has always been Uther’s favourite, although he swears Arthur’s mother is the only woman he truly loved. So Arthur refused to be stuck with him amongst a nation of hip-hop loving strangers, refused to stay at boarding school, Uther threatened to cut him off financially. Arthur suggested paying the private school fees to my mother for letting him live with us and we’d attend public school together. Uther accused him of being a homosexual. Arthur laughed in his face. ‘If I were gay, Father, I would be begging to stay at boarding school so I might offer my nectarine to whoever took my fancy without you ever finding out about it. Besides that, do you truly believe I can’t do better than Gwaine?’ Best comeback ever. Uther consented to his plan.”

Merlin takes Gwaine’s hands in his. “What’s so wrong with you?” he asks sincerely.

“I cheat, drink heavily, gamble, live beyond my means and sleep around.”

“And you did all that at age fifteen?”

“Not the sleeping around – although I may have flirted excessively – everything else, yes indeed!” Gwaine certainly isn’t ashamed of his faults.

“Did you love Arthur?” Merlin won’t blame him if he did. He won’t even blame him if he still does. Who wouldn’t fall at least a little in love with someone who’d do all that for them?

Gwaine either doesn’t hear the question or deliberately changes the topic. “That place looks good!” He leaps up to press the stop button across the aisle. Merlin follows his lead as he heads to the door before the bus begins to slow down.

#### 12\. Whispers and Moans

Exactly one week later Merlin hears Gwaine accusing one of his housemates and decides not to knock on the door just yet.

“Why is my boyfriend’s mobile number stored in your phone?”

“In case of emergencies you dill.” Arthur replies. Arthur kept Merlin’s number in his phone, just like Arthur’s is still in Merlin’s. They haven’t called each other since checking the arrangements for Merlin’s graduation. Why haven’t they erased the numbers? Arthur is referring to Merlin, not some other boyfriend Gwaine might have stashed somewhere, isn’t he? “If we can’t reach you we can hopefully find you by calling Merlin. Plus, if he tries calling because something’s happened to you, we’ll actually bother to answer the call as it will come from a recognisable number.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“You seem to take a lot of interest…”

Merlin knocks, loudly. Luckily Arthur answers the door. “Thanks for giving me your number the other day. Like I said, some people give me and Gwaine the evil eye when we’re out together and knowing I can reach you or Lancelot if things get hairy…” Gwaine performs his Bella Lugosi impression over Arthur’s shoulder again except this time it gives Merlin the creeps. “I guess I should have talked to you about this first.” Merlin hopes his chagrin is genuine enough to carry the lie.

Gwaine holds his hand out beside Arthur and clicks his fingers. Merlin places his mobile on the upturned palm.

“It’s under BFS… for Boyfriend’s Sidekick,” Merlin explains hurriedly as Gwaine scrolls though his contact list. “I haven’t exchanged numbers with Lancelot yet.” Arthur catches his eye and makes some indecipherable gesture with his eyebrows. Merlin hopes it means ‘shut up’ because that’s what he wants to do. “You ready to head out?” he asks Gwaine with what had better be his usual enthusiasm. Merlin enjoys being Gwaine’s boyfriend and doesn’t want one night of nothing with Arthur to be made into a night of something with Arthur by Gwaine’s imagination, thus ruining everything Merlin has with Gwaine.

Gwaine hands back Merlin's mobile. “Don’t wait up,” he says to Arthur and walks with Merlin to LabRats.

“Sorry,” Merlin apologises simply. He can’t explain what he’s sorry for. It isn’t as though he and Arthur planned on seeing each other again, the exact opposite is true. It was supposed to be forgotten – and it wasn’t an actual date to begin with. Arthur was playing make believe, they both were. Gwaine can never know any of this. He’ll think Merlin's desperate and know there’s no way his Prince Arthur is unsullied. He’ll think they fucked each other, no matter how much they assert otherwise.

“You both meant well, but at least one of you should have said something before.”

Merlin has the awful feeling they’re going to have this conversation again in the future.

There’s a live band at the bar tonight and they’re not too bad. Gwaine ducks off to pee and Merlin texts Arthur: we need to talk. His phone sings ‘how about some hot stuff…?’

BFS: Talk = last thing we need do. U better have deleted old sms

Merlin changes the incoming alerts for BFS while he’s at it. He spots Gwaine at the bar and sends another quickie text: Y u keep my #

BFS: 4got

_Forgot?! I’m not even memorable enough to bother scrolling down and pressing delete?!_

Merlin's ready to delete arrogant arsehole Arthur’s number but now he bloody can’t because of that cock-and-bull they fed to Gwaine. Shit.

The band starts to suck, or perhaps that’s just Merlin's attitude. “Can we go?” he asks once Gwaine finishes his drink.

“Where?”

“Don’t care.”

“I vote your place.”

“Okay.”

They kiss roughly and fondle urgently on Merlin's bed. Merlin has one leg over Gwaine’s hip and both hands in Gwaine’s hair as Gwaine pulls their cocks in one broad, muscled, lubricated hand. He doesn’t really need to tug on Merlin's because he’s eagerly fucking Gwaine’s hand. Soon Gwaine keeps his hand still and they fuck it together.  
Merlin grunts, groans and gasps into Gwaine’s mouth as he comes. Gwaine swallows his exhaled ejaculations while coating his hand in the other sort. Merlin lies on his back, watching Gwaine wank and try to aim his cum into Merlin's navel. Most of it lands on the edge or around the outside but he bends his gorgeous head to slurp out the spoof that hit bullseye. The feel and sound of it cause Merlin's hips to react and his limp dick flops up against Gwaine’s chest.

Gwaine lies on him, trapping Merlin from the waist down beneath his weight, makes a love bite to the left of Merlin's navel, then another on his hip. The one on his hip tickles and he can’t help chortling. Gwaine looks up, crawls up so their faces are level, letting a line of kisses mark the way, smiles and kisses Merlin's mouth. Their tongues dance as their fingers play in the hair at the nape of their boyfriend’s neck and travel the curve of their boyfriend’s bum.

Merlin wants to see how their bodies have been transformed by the moonlight because the sun hadn’t finished setting when they began. Gwaine complies, lying on his back next to Merlin. Cum shines like silver against their skin, Merlin has to touch it. It’s like writing with magic, watching the story change as his fingers manipulate the medium on Gwaine’s athletic torso. Gwaine’s fingertips make patterns on Merlin. Merlin hardens again first, but even then it takes a while. This time he comes in Gwaine’s mouth, down his throat to be precise. Then Gwaine slowly, carefully, shallowly fucks Merlin's mouth, withdrawing to come in the hollow of Merlin's throat, between his clavicles, and again slurps it up.

It tickles and Merlin moans because it’s wonderfully, disgustingly erotic. Who needs vampire porn when you’ve got Gwaine sucking cum from your throat? He holds Gwaine’s head there until the thrill subsides. Then they kiss again, over and over until they curl their limbs around each other between the sheets and sleep.

In the morning they shower together and add to their mess before finally getting clean.

“You know I once said that if Will hadn’t been spirited away I wouldn’t be on the phone with you?” he asks Gwaine in a husky voice as water runs between his lips and Gwaine rinses the last of the soap-and-semen mixture off Merlin’s back.

“Mm?” Gwaine kisses the back of his neck.

“Mm, I hereby retract that statement.”

He turns to kiss Gwaine’s waiting lips and their perfect afterglow is shattered by someone’s fists hammering on the laminated plywood door and dividing wall of their cubicle.

“Fucking poofters!”

“We know who you are faggots.”

“We better not catch you fucking in here again or we’ll shove a plunger, handle first up each of your arses and seal the plunger cups together.”

“Got that Merlin?”

“Your fudge packing bi-boy’s going to get what’s coming to him. Aren’t you Gwaine?”

“Shouldn’t have fucked my sister bi-boy.”

The steaming water can’t stop Merlin's blood from freezing. They’re trapped, defenceless…

Gwaine’s voice quickly changes the tone in the room. “That’s not what she said Olaf. Did you seriously expect me to keep fucking you after you set those boys up for a poofter bashing so no-one would know you like a cock up your arse and in your mouth at the same time? What was that teacher’s name, the one you let fuck you in the long jump pit? Mr…”

“That was you?” two of the angry mob ask one of their own.

“What? Don’t be daft...” Merlin hears Olaf’s fear, feels it run along the same current as his own.

“You were the one who told us he was a fudge packer. How do you know? Did he pack your fudge?”

“Nice and tight,” Gwaine calls out. “I know who you are now.”

“Shit.” There’s a scuffle of feet, a “good one cockhead!” and “his pet Pendragon will go Chuck Norris now” followed by “you—are—a—dead man Olaf” as they hurry out.

“You okay?” Gwaine asks Merlin.

“No.” He may have pissed himself with fear at some stage. Hopefully the warm fluid continually running down his legs was only water.

“Do you want to go home and put all this behind you?” Gwaine’s arms are no warmer than the water but they’re solid and that makes a lot of difference to a young man suddenly set adrift.

“Yes, but I’m not going to. Do you really know who they are?” Merlin is made stronger by Gwaine’s embrace but there is no way he’s telling his mother what happened here.

“At least three of them,” Gwaine replies.

“Then we’re going to report them to campus security and the dorm supervisor.”

It sounds like Gwaine calls him Spitfire, but that could be a combination of Merlin's determination, imagination and the splash of water around them.

#### 13\. Fight for Your Right to Paaaaaaaaarrrrrty

“By all means, make a fuss. A fuss needs to be made. Just don’t make me part of it.” Arthur is insistent, Merlin is persistent and Gwaine is silent while Gwen and Lancelot are divided in support of their friends as the five of them sit in the share house.

“A name like yours will draw the attention this issue deserves,” Gwen tells Arthur.

“Arthur’s name will draw attention that this issue doesn’t need,” Lancelot tells Gwen. “It will become linked to a number of scandals that have nothing to do with violence against homosexuals. Merlin and Gwaine’s case will lose all credibility.”

“There’s another reason,” Arthur adds. “I can’t use my name to join a social network in case other people’s posts violate some rule governing my father’s diplomatic position. Thanks to ‘historical’ legend the internet is flooded with sites featuring the mythical figure Father named me for, but it only takes one lucky hit to bring national security into question.”

“So Uther constantly reminded us, for how many years?” Gwaine complains. “I want to Twitter, MySpace, Facebook and YouTube.”

“I don’t have any of those,” Merlin assures him. He does have a livejournal account for posting slash fan-fiction based on The Hitch-hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Doctor Who, Van Helsing and Being Human, though. His username is i_give_you_excalibur. None of these people need to know that.

“That’s because you need friends for social networking Merlin,” Arthur states baldly with his arms crossed. He doesn’t look at Merlin. There is no humour in Arthur’s voice or body language. “Morgana’s past behaviour has ensured I can never have a life in the public eye.”

“Your witch of a sister and tyrannical father always claimed I’d be the one to bring you down,” Gwaine huffs.

“You wish.” Arthur smiles at Gwaine. Does he blame Merlin for this? The faceless Olaf knew Gwaine, had slept with him. Merlin came from across the country.

“This isn’t my fault,” Merlin begins earnestly.

“I know,” Arthur turns a serious gaze his way. “I shouldn’t have repeatedly lectured Gwaine on being discreet. Perhaps then he could have kept his antics behind closed doors.”

“I’m an ‘antic’, am I?”

“Why do you always assume I’m attacking you?” Arthur asks with one eyebrow raised at a rakish angle.

“Oh I don’t know, because you’re a condescending, smarmy git?”

“Are you sure you two aren’t seeing each other behind my back?” Gwaine asks with faint humour.

“They do have that air of ‘marriage under tension’, don’t they?” Gwen agrees with a dimpled grimace.

“I only put up with the skinny runt because you and Gwaine are convinced he has some redeeming features hidden away. Sometimes you just take an instant dislike to someone.” Arthur sneers at Merlin.

Merlin stares blandly. “Sometimes it’s mutual.”

#### 14\. I Didn’t Mean to be Mean

Merlin receives a text on the way back to his dorm but doesn’t find it until Gwaine and Lancelot have escorted him safely back to his cell and said goodbye. Apparently someone left voicemail while his mobile was on silent. Why can’t voicemail tell you who left the message? Cheap, useless communications plan! If Arthur’s opening word hadn’t been ‘sorry’ Merlin would have deleted the message immediately.

“Sorry, the runt comment went a bit overboard and you handled it magnificently. Truly, you should be an actor. Tell your story to the magazine put out by the combined student unions – insist on speaking directly to the editor Geoffrey on behalf of Ygraine.” Arthur spells the name. “He’ll call you back if he isn’t there. Make sure they spell Gwaine’s name wrong. He gets called ‘Dwaine’ a lot so go with that. Sorry again. You may need to find a safer boyfriend, Merlin. Trouble is all over Gwaine like remora on a shark.”

Merlin texts him back: A BIT overboard?

Arthur’s more difficult to decipher than his escort alter-ego. He tells everyone to keep him out of this, insults Merlin then apologises, compliments Merlin and offers to help – all within twenty eight minutes!

Arthur replies quickly: Safer 4 all if G thinks I not stand sight of u

Merlin: Y u b Boy 4 Sale?

He sets the incoming alert volume to maximum and keeps his mobile in his pocket as he catches up on biology1A readings then puts it within reach of his bed when he turns in, but Arthur doesn’t reply.

#### 15\. Single Bed

The article in the student magazine features all forms of harassment on campus, plus how to avoid and report them — with no names. Gwaine and Merlin are still given the evil eye when they’re out together but people are less blatant about it. It doesn’t seem worth the effort.

Lancelot and Gwen are still in line at the register so Arthur and Gwaine cop the full force of Merlin's complaint.

“It’s the best you can hope for I’m afraid,” Arthur responds dejectedly. His expression indicates he feels the same disappointment in his lunch as he pushes it about the plate with a fork. “At least you’ve made it impossible for tertiary schools as a collective to ignore such violence when it occurs. That could mean all the difference to a victim.”

“Are you sure you want to be a sports teacher and not a member for parliament or something?” Merlin teases.

“Merlin please, I have standards.”

Gwaine smiles as Arthur frowns at his plate and decides he can’t eat that. Merlin hasn’t thought of Arthur as more than an accessory to Gwaine for weeks, thanks in part to the comfortable pattern established by his boyfriend. The only social time they spend with Gwaine’s friends is during Friday lunch when all four males join Gwen at Chalkie Café. Lancelot, Gwen and Arthur stay on the opposite side of the pedagogy tutorial room and work diligently in their quieter corner while Gwaine and Merlin goof about and work in equal amounts. Gwaine insists that their weekend dates exclude the other three.

“Just admit your friends don’t like me,” Merlin demands after Gwaine says no to the bar where his boys will be.

“Of course they do.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that they like you. Lancelot will want me to move out and you to move in before Christmas if I let you get too familiar.”

Merlin gives up trying to get a serious answer when Gwaine isn’t prepared to give him one. Gwen, however, must be spending a lot of time with Gwaine’s friends. Every third topic seems to involve Lancelot or Arthur, if not both.

Gwaine and Merlin start meeting up in town mid-week for student-nite as well as at Union Bars on weekends. They drink and fool around a lot without actually ‘fooling around’.

“You haven’t made a move on me in days, are you losing interest?” Merlin asks, only half in jest as they play table tennis in the dormitory common room. It’s always empty on a Saturday night and Merlin wanted to be properly alone with Gwaine outside his tissue box bedroom.

“I’m trying to be respectful, you dolt.”

Merlin laughs and kisses him. Gwaine kisses him back. Merlin sits on the table tennis court with Gwaine standing between his legs as they kiss and begin touching each other up. Getting caught like this won’t do much for the integrity of their complaint against Olaf so they retire to Merlin's room where they make each other come with their hands. 

“Thank god for that!” Gwaine exclaims. “You do know you don’t have to wait for me to make the first move?”

“Do now.” Merlin rolls onto him and kisses him until they’re nearly breathless.

“You’re something special Merlin,” Gwaine says as they lie squished together, dozing off in Merlin's single bed. He says it with deep affection and Merlin thinks ‘so this is how it feels to be in love – gently warm rather than tumultuous heat.’ He decides that he prefers the real thing to the illusion he’d been waiting for in high school. Merlin drapes his arm across Gwaine’s waist.

“When can we sleep at your house?” he asks with his cheek over Gwaine’s heart. He remembers hearing it beat through his mobile phone three months ago, when the only things he knew about Gwaine were superficial. Now he can feel it, real and solid. Like us

“Why?” Gwaine asks. “Hoping to catch another glimpse of the nudist?”

“Don’t you have a bigger bed?” Merlin hints.

“If you’re sure that’s what you want,” Gwaine replies softly. His fingers move reverently through Merlin's hair and along Merlin's neck.

Merlin is sure.

#### 16\. Say, Say, Say

“Could you ask Lancelot what I should get Gwaine for Christmas?” Merlin asks Gwen over breakfast in the dining hall.

“Would you explain why you’re no longer talking to Arthur first? He apologised months ago for calling you a skinny runt – which you are by the way. I mean, look at your boyfriend and his cohort of definitive save-the-world type hunks.”

“I talk to Arthur!” he declares defensively. Gwaine recently expressed concern about Merlin’s weight, and then suggested he swallow. Merlin isn’t mentioning that to Gwen.

“No you don’t. You talk around him or about him to Gwaine, Lancelot and me, but unless he addresses you directly you ignore him. What’s he supposed to have done this time?”

“Nothing, I … it isn’t deliberate if I do that, which I don’t believe I do. But if I am doing that, I don’t set out to do it on purpose.”

“So ask Arthur about a gift for Gwaine. He’s known him twice as long as Lancelot has.”

“Arthur doesn’t approve of our relationship.” You see, we fake dated before I met Gwaine. He doesn’t want Gwaine to find out and I don’t want you to know because I had to pay Arthur to go out with me. The longer I’m with Gwaine the more likely we’ll all be covered in spilled beans, and none of us want that.

“He wasn’t happy about it at the start, no. But if you hadn’t been ignoring him you would know how impressed he is that Gwaine has had the one partner for three months and, more importantly, that this partner is someone like you, not some acrobatic sex-addict…”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Is this ‘pick on Merlin week’? Glad it isn’t catching on beyond you lot.” Merlin grumbles as he struggles with the waxed-paper bag inside his cardboard box of cereal. Why can’t they let students scoop dry cereal out of a tub or something? Surely it’s cheaper to buy the stuff in bulk.

“Haven’t you seen Gwaine’s Sex Instructor t-shirt, Virgins a Specialty?”

“What? No. You aren’t serious!”

Gwen nods with a sideways half-smile and her brown eyes crinkle. “Afraid so, have taken it off the washing line myself.”

“You do their laundry?” Merlin asks with a disbelieving smile as he stirs milk through his cereal.

“Unlike you, I don’t get paid to work in a lab as part of my scholarship. Arthur pays me…”

“Arthur, pays you, to do his laundry? You’re his servant?”

“He and Lancelot prefer the term ‘favoured employee’, plus they cook me dinner at least once a week. Well, Lancelot does. Arthur’s idea of cooking involves a microwave meal followed by ice-cream on a stick, but it still makes a pleasant change from dining hall fodder. They keep asking me to invite you to join us but you’re always out with Gwaine, in the lab for night prac or work, or playing mad professor and lab assistant in your room with Gwaine…”

Merlin comes up with a cheeky way to change the topic. “If you had to pick between Lancelot and Arthur, who would you choose?”

“Don’t be silly, we’re all just friends.” Gwen answers calmly, although she avoids Merlin's gaze and picks dried fruit from her muesli.

“That’s not what Gwaine thinks.” Gwaine’s opinion made Merlin snort a small corn kernel out his right nostril so he plans to make no further allusions to it. He forgets about Gwen accusing him of ignoring Arthur and later asks Lancelot about what might constitute an appropriate gift for Gwaine.

“I don’t know. I just add my name to whatever Arthur buys, same as Gwaine. Ask Arthur. Or would you rather I ask on your behalf since you’re ignoring him?”

“Wh…that’s what Gwen said! I am not ignoring him.” Merlin makes use of Gwaine’s absence at lunch on Friday due to a co-operative assessment to prove this is so and asks Arthur what to buy him.  
“Arthur?” Merlin nudges him with a foot after receiving no reply.

“Hm? Oh, you were talking to me?”

“Yes!”

“Don’t sound so parental. For five weeks you’ve said nothing more than ‘yes’, ‘no’, ‘guess so’ or ‘where’s Gwaine?’ Don’t blame me for assuming you were addressing everyone else at the table. Since you asked; you can’t go wrong with a t-shirt, preferably black with something offensive on it, offensive being the priority. Don’t get upset if he doesn’t wear it, he collects them.”

“T-shirts?” Merlin asks doubtfully.

“T-shirts,” Arthur confirms.

“I’m going out with a man who collects rude t-shirts?”

“You certainly are,” Arthur gloats. Lancelot nods along with a smirk.

“Never would have predicted that one,” Merlin admits.

“No. Neither of you seem each other’s type but it appears to be working.” Arthur’s approval is apparent.

Gwen flashes a smug ‘told you so’ Merlin's way. Perhaps the danger period is over and no-one can have any reason to suspect Merlin and Arthur met through means other than Gwaine. Perhaps Merlin and Arthur can actually become friends.

“So Gwaine honestly has a ‘Virgins are his Specialty’ shirt?” Merlin asks with a carefree smile.

Arthur retreats from the conversation and the table with a fraudulent excuse. Merlin's smile fades.

“Guess it’s back to ignoring Arthur then,” Gwen says softly to Lancelot with a slightly frustrated expression before heading after Arthur.

“What have I done now?” Merlin asks Lancelot. This is ridiculous. Lancelot doesn’t look too happy as he watches Gwen catch up to Arthur.

“Arthur had the shirt made to order. Gwaine’s almost worn it to death. The collection grew from the search for a replacement and became a long-running joke between them.”

Merlin remembers the text message Gwaine sent the first time they all had lunch together with Gwen. “Gwaine said Arthur’s – but he’s not. He can’t be!” The thought that Gwaine would be so blind is more ridiculous than Arthur’s reaction.

“Well he is,” Lancelot insists.

“No, I’m pretty sure he isn’t,” Merlin contends.

“Is that why there’s always been this wall of weird between you? Did you hook up during O-week?”

“Me and Arthur?” Merlin's heart inexplicably changes pace. “No. I just mean – look at him! Blokes would pay to spend time with him.” Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. The words travel throughout Merlin along his pulse.

Lancelot hasn’t noticed. His gaze has returned to Arthur and Gwen. “I doubt Arthur’s interested in men, Merlin.”

Merlin is about to refute that flatly delivered statement when Arthur’s hand moves to Gwen’s waist to guide her gently through the crowd. The gesture is deferential, chivalrous. Gwen smiles her thanks with extra dimples and Arthur smiles back with equal affection.

“No!” Merlin leans forward in his seat, mouth gaping after his exclamation. “Gwen?” How rapt in Gwaine has Merlin been to miss this? Arthur should be performing on stage and being showered with accolades for his acting skills. Merlin never doubted that Arthur was gay!

Lancelot doesn’t scowl, that would be impolite. Whatever the well-mannered version of a scowl may be, that is what adorns Lancelot’s face. His eyes flit to Merlin and back in bitter accusation, as though it’s Merlin's fault their friends have developed this interest in each other.

“You like Gwen don’t you?” Merlin asks like an imbecile.

“What’s not to like?” Lancelot’s response is less gruff than Merlin expected.

“Gwen told me just days ago that the three of you are just friends. She had a go at me in fact for suggesting she preferred one of you over the other.”

“So there’s no chance for either of us?” Lancelot’s subtle humour shows around his eyes.

“No, you nit,” Merlin declares with mock impatience. “It means you stand an equal chance of wooing her. Gwen has admitted to me more than once that she’s bold as brass, except for when it comes to romance. That girl won’t make a move until confident that it’s safe to do so.”

“Gwaine said the same thing about you. Replace the word romance with…”

“Perhaps I should give my advice to Arthur instead,” Merlin muses with fake solemnity and Lancelot chuckles.

#### 17\. Material Girl

Merlin decides to take Gwen when he goes shopping for Gwaine’s gift. 

“Why do you want my opinion?” Gwen asks after leaving another store empty handed.

“By the sounds of it, the more likely it is to repulse you the more he’ll love it.”

“I was raised by my father and older brother and have developed a high tolerance for the disgusting, thought it best to warn you.”

“So if you discovered Gwaine is adamant that you, Arthur and Lancelot indulge in threesomes you wouldn’t react like that.” Merlin points as Gwen covers her eyes, cheeks aflame and repeats ‘oh-my-god-no’ in a quiet, distressed voice. “Don’t worry,” Merlin adds, “I told him you’re strictly an orgy girl and wouldn’t let him miss out on any fun.”

Gwen roughly backhands Merlin's arm. “You’re evil.” She rubs her knuckles, “and bony!”

They browse through another rack of shirts in an out-of place surf shop.

“So,” Gwen begins with exaggerated nonchalance, “has Gwaine invited you to the house for Christmas lunch with the rest of us?”

“No.” Merlin puts back a shirt that fails to raise Gwen’s eyebrows.

“I’m sure he will,” Gwen smiles supportively.

“He invited me to stay from Christmas Eve to Boxing Day.” Merlin is sometimes nervous about it. Two nights in a row without separating during the day, what are they going to talk about? How are they going to fill the time? He knows some of what they’ll do, presents and the obvious thing they haven’t done yet, but that won’t fill forty eight hours, even if virgins are Gwaine’s specialty.

“Get rid of that Pink Panther shirt, Merlin. Lame doesn’t count as offensive.” Gwen leans closer and talks quietly. “Don’t worry over things. All that muffled noise from your room when he visits suggests you get up to quite a lot…”

“That’s just…having fun,” Merlin mumbles, mortified that a) this conversation is occurring and b) Gwen hears them ‘having fun’.

“If you do it to achieve orgasm it counts as sex. Didn’t they teach Personal Health and Development at your school?”

“Not stuff like that!”

“So you know nothing about post-coital douching?” Gwen’s eyes and dimples are filled with malicious glee.

“Consider the gang-bang comment avenged.”

“Oh, urgh!” Gwen holds the sleeve of a t-shirt between two fingers for Merlin's perusal. “Found a winner.”

“Urgh,” Merlin agrees. He purchases the revolting garment and they celebrate the find with flavoured tea and apple turnovers from the nearest eatery.

“Are you sure about you and Gwaine? He’s a rogue and you’re…”

“A dweeb?”

“…less rowdy.”

“Opposites are supposed to attract.”

“What I’m trying to get at – what brought the two of you together in the first place?”

“Dunno. Gwaine gave me his number and I used it. He’s fun. We have fun together.”

“So basically, nothing? He checks you out, says ‘call me’ which you do and now you’re spending Christmas together?”

“We’ve been together three months! Can we stop using the word ‘together’? It’s starting to sound trite.”

“Okay. You’ve been a couple for three months. Three months of what, exactly?”

“Being social and,” Merlin pauses, “the rest, normal stuff.” What is it about women and relationship vivisection? His mother constantly analyses every interaction between people. It drives Merlin barmy.

“Do you love him?” Gwen asks gently.

“What?” Merlin has only thought about it the once. He enjoys being around Gwaine and he’s certainly attracted to him. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Does he love you?”

Merlin is surprised by how bluntly Gwen asks. He hasn’t thought about Gwaine’s perspective at all. “What’s this about? Have your bosom buddies said something?”

“No. I just get the feeling Gwaine isn’t as serious about this as you are.”

“This isn’t a movie Gwen. Love at first sight isn’t real.”

“Alright, okay,” Gwen raises her hands then places them flat on the table, either side of her empty plate. “Opinions on this topic will no longer be shared.”

“Good.”

He thinks about Gwaine and love on the bus ride back to the residential side of campus. He remembers Gwaine telling him he’s something special and wonders if perhaps Gwaine is taking their relationship more seriously than Merlin.

#### 18\. Ding-Dong Merrily On High

Christmas Eve isn’t spent the way Merlin expected.

Gwaine, Arthur and Lancelot have a tradition that not even separate gap years interrupted. Arthur insists it will be entirely dull without Gwaine so Merlin is forced to participate. None of them will tell him what it is before they get there. 

They pick him up in the same car that took Merlin to grad. This time he sits in the back with Gwaine – who wears flashing LED antlers, a shirt declaring the Bible to be the world’s most popular fantasy novel, and a grin. The heater in Arthur’s car is overenthusiastic and Merlin immediately strips off his coat, gloves and beanie. Gwaine has a box on his lap which the three of them refuse to explain. Merlin gives up and settles for singing along to a cassette of Christmas carols.

“Arthur’s car predates CD and not in the sexy, vintage kind of way,” Gwaine explains.

Merlin nearly says ‘I know’. Little slips occur on both sides during the evening. Merlin trips first by declaring “Of course!” when they park at a Salvation Army distribution centre. Oliver mentioned helping pack charity hampers with his friends as they danced but Merlin couldn’t be sure what was fact and what was fairy tale at the time.

“What do you mean ‘of course’?” Gwaine asks and Arthur tenses.

“I should have figured they’d force you into redeeming your soul in time for Santa.”

Lancelot and Gwaine laugh, Arthur and Merlin relax.

Arthur stumbles next when discussing the commercially produced plum puddings they put in the packs. “No doubt they don’t measure up to Hunith’s.” He covers his gaff by adding “That’s your mother’s name isn’t it, Merlin? Gwen had the good fortune to sample the one Mummy sent you and boasted about what we were missing.”

Lancelot supports the truthful part of Arthur’s story. “Gwen complained that her slice was half the size of the one you gave Gwaine. We wondered why you didn’t go home simply for miracle pudding.”

“You lot comparing me unfavourably to pudding now?” Gwaine complains half-heartedly.

“What are you smuggling into the hampers this year, Naughty Elf?” Arthur asks cheerily and Gwaine lights up like his antlers.

“Pocket size packets of jelly penises and the standard ‘could be worse’ postcard.”

“Which would be what?” Merlin asks.

Gwaine opens a packet of cock-shaped lollies and pops a green one into his mouth, with a red one for Merlin as he shows him the postcard of a girl in her late teens emerging from a backyard pool. The pale figure is bedraggled, her thigh length cocktail frock and make up are ruined. A plastic party tiara dangles from black hair longer than her dress. Her expression is horrified as the smartly-suited young man helping her out of the pool projectile vomits into her cleavage. The words Lady of the Lake are embossed on the front while the back reads: It could be worse, you could be her. Merry Xmas, stay safe and party sensibly. Love from Santa’s Elves.

Merlin finds it grotesque and cute at the same time. “How do you know the Lady of the Lake isn’t one of the recipients? That’d be a crappy Christmas.” He opens his mouth when Gwaine holds another jelly penis in front of it. They’re tiny but yum.

“That’s my independently wealthy half-sister Morgana celebrating the twenty first birthday of her half-sister Morgause. Thankfully the blond witch is no relation of mine,” Arthur explains. “Gwaine’s been getting his revenge this way every year since, love it.”

“Revenge for what?” Merlin asks with a grimace of concern-tainted amusement. This photo could be linked to whatever scandals prevented Arthur openly supporting Gwaine after he and Merlin were bullied in the showers.

“Morgana seduced Gwaine to get back at Arthur for not going with their father to the US,” Lancelot explains while Arthur pulls a face at the way Gwaine stretches an orange penis before biting its balls off.

“The witch wasn’t in control of her fortune then and Uther refused to pay her way as punishment for uploading video of us going for it. The vid did wonders for our reputations, not so good for Uther’s, hence our internet ban. He’s always watching to ensure Arthur remains scandal free. It isn’t fair,” Gwaine complains.

“It wouldn’t be fair on the Americans to send her over there,” Arthur declares.

“I blame Morgana for your refusal to go out with me,” Gwaine slaps a pink jelly at Arthur’s cheek.

Arthur pulls on the other end until it breaks. “It can’t have anything to do with the fact I’ve never been attracted to you,” Arthur retorts before tossing the knob end into his mouth.

“Because you’re hot for Lancelot,” Gwaine replies.

“Who will never be attracted to either of you,” Lancelot concludes.

Merlin expects it to turn into an argument but every comment is delivered and received with good cheer. This must be another of their idiosyncrasies. He is welcomed into their generalised banter and thoroughly enjoys himself.

The other minor errors demonstrating that he met Arthur prior to his relationship with Gwaine go un-noticed by the others. They share ‘can’t believe we got away with that one’ gestures whenever the coast is clear. Merlin reaches the conclusion that ‘Oliver’ was by majority genuine Arthur. He isn’t sure how to handle that. Not only due to what it might mean for Merlin, but how it could affect Gwen, Lancelot and most of all Gwaine. Arthur doesn’t know how Merlin felt about their night together, or for how long he thought about it afterwards. Merlin plans to keep it that way.

It’s 2am when the room full of volunteers cheer that the last hamper is done. The delivery elves will take over in three hours. There is nothing left to do but say goodbye, because everyone cleaned up bags and boxes as they were emptied instead of letting them accumulate.

“Disappointing lack of reaction to your shirt this year, Gwaine,” is Lancelot’s only complaint. “You’ll never top that South Park one.”

“Do you watch that crap?” Merlin asks Gwaine.

“Indeed I do, as does Lancelot.”

“Unfortunately,” Arthur mutters as he removes his keys from his front pocket. “If I’d known what was on that bloody shirt I would never have bought it online. ‘South Park Christmas shirt, sounds like the perfect gift for Gwaine. No image available? Doesn’t matter, click.’ Never again!”

Gwaine and Lancelot chuckle with broad grins across the roof of the car.

“Keep going on about it and he’ll wear it when we do this again next year,” Merlin declares. Gwaine stares at Merlin and Merlin stares back as Arthur and Lancelot deliberately ignore them. “Not that I meant we’ll be, next year, not that we won’t. I’m not fantasising about us getting married or…”

“Shut up Merlin,” Arthur says quietly and Merlin does.

The resulting silence prickles. As they pile into the car, Merlin wonders whether he should ask to be dropped off at his dorm instead of going back to the house. He waits to catch Arthur’s eye in the rear view mirror.

“Why wouldn’t we be together a year from now?” Gwaine asks roughly, staring defiantly into the back of the driver’s seat.

Merlin is unsure who Gwaine is asking. Lancelot responds and Arthur’s gaze meets Merlin's and stays there until he has to focus on the road.

“No-one said you wouldn’t. Merlin doesn’t want to scare you off by committing so soon.” Lancelot sounds like a masculine Gwen.

Merlin isn’t sure who he’s trying to reassure with that comment. He isn’t sure what he wants, or who. By the looks of things, neither is Arthur.

#### 19\. Say ‘nighty-night’ and Kiss Me

Merlin shoulders the backpack containing his clothes and Gwaine's present. He’s still wondering where he should spend the night. Never mind a year from now, are we going to be together an hour from now?

Gwaine and Merlin talk a lot while in each other’s company but never about the nature of their relationship. There was no need. It simply happened and they were happy with it. Now Merlin is uncertain. He blames Gwen. Her questions planted these doubts in his mind.

‘Neither of you seem each other’s type,’ Arthur had said, ‘but it appears to be working.’  
Is it?

“Woo-hoo, Merlin, front door this way,” Lancelot says while waving a hand in Merlin's face.

“Zoned out a bit there,” Merlin apologises as he follows him inside.

“Straight to sleep everyone and no naughty stuff you two,” Arthur quips with a yawn.

“Far too tired,” Gwaine agrees. “My eyes will be lucky to stay open long enough to ogle his bum. Merlin has such a lovely bum. Have I told you how much I enjoy looking at Merlin's bum, Arthur?”

“No need. You didn’t take your eyes off it that first time he walked down the amphitheatre steps.”

“Or any time since,” Lancelot adds. “Sometimes you purse your lips a little while watching it wander by. Like this,” Lancelot and Arthur demonstrate pouts of approval.

“I’d say something about Gwaine erecting a shrine to the glory of Merlin's bum but that would lead to all sorts of innuendo far too inappropriate for this level of exhaustion.” Arthur rounds off his comment with another yawn. He waves with one hand while rubbing the back of his head with the other. “Night lads.”

“Night boys,” Gwaine and Lancelot reply as they each head to their rooms.

Merlin is too embarrassed and flattered by the conversation centred round his bum to say anything as he accompanies Gwaine. “I guess you really like my bum,” he says eventually and Gwaine’s usual grin returns to make him more than incredibly handsome.

“Your bum has healing properties. I can’t see it and not think happy thoughts – not always that kind – plus, I simply place my hand on the roundest part, like so,” Gwaine demonstrates, “and I am troubled no more.”

He and Merlin stand kissing like that for a while then strip down to their underwear and get comfortable in Gwaine’s bed. His quilt has a soothing weight and their body heat immediately warms the cold sheets. They have to move around a lot to warm Merlin's narrow bed to this level of comfort. Gwaine’s dark eyes flit across Merlin's face. Merlin gets the impression he’s bracing himself to say something.

“…well, goodnight,” seems anticlimactic, even with the kiss to Merlin's cheek. Gwaine closes his eyes with determination.

“Yeah, night,” Merlin replies and does the same. It doesn’t take long for sleep to claim them both.

#### 20 Dream a Little Dream

Merlin dreams of dancing with Gwaine the way he danced with Arthur.

Then he dreams of being kissed by Gwaine the way he was kissed by Arthur.

Then he dreams of naked Arthur holding his bum the way Gwaine did, pressing against him, kissing him the way he did before and offering to spend the night with Merlin ‘on the house’.

“When it comes to butt sex I’m strictly a Top, thanks Merlin.” Gwaine’s voice puts everything on pause. He’d been mindlessly rubbing his maturing erection against the small of Gwaine’s back. Gwaine rolls over and gives Merlin's jutting cock several luxurious strokes as he murmurs against his ear. “But I will gladly suck you off.”

Gwaine is hardening against Merlin's thigh and they 69 as Christmas morning dawns.

Merlin's dreams are forgotten.

#### 21\. Come All Ye Faithful

Gwaine’s nose is in Merlin's ear, his left elbow at a strange angle over Merlin's right shoulder and his right knee under Merlin's left leg. It isn’t this ridiculous position that wakes them up.

“Guinevere will be here in twenty minutes and nobody’s up!” Arthur complains from the kitchen.

“You better be naked,” Gwaine grumbles as he reluctantly disentangles his limbs from Merlin.

Merlin's a guest. He exerts guest’s privileges and starts drifting back to sleep.

“Up you get sexy.” Gwaine slaps Merlin's thigh. “We can fall back into bed once the lovely Guinevere’s out the door.”

Gwaine dresses hurriedly and is out the door before Merlin musters enough energy to say “don’t want to move.”

By the time he lugs his bum out of Gwaine’s bed the three residents are dashing and calling across the kitchenette in a bedlam attempt to knock together an acceptable Christmas lunch. Arthur isn’t naked, which is a bit of a letdown really. Merlin volunteers to become slave to the hardworking Lancelot as punishment for thinking such a thing about his boyfriend’s friend. He and Gwaine sucked each other off only hours ago for Christ’s sake! And now he blasphemed on Christmas day.

“I’m going to hell,” he mumbles and puts whatever Lancelot passes him onto the round table.

“You can sit with Gwaine. He’s had his ticket booked for years,” Arthur says with a grin at Gwaine.

“The three of us can share a row. Poor Lancelot misses out.” Gwaine grins back, removes his sweater vest and points at the t-shirt he’s wearing.

“No Gwaine, not today, Guinevere…” Arthur starts.

Merlin leans in to read the small print forming a halo above the head of a South Park angel: You can suck all the penis you want… Putting that with the ‘and still be a Virgin, Mary’ in the speech balloon makes Merlin lean back with a blunt exclamation. “Oh-my-god!” Will used to play that song all the time but all they heard before the ‘and still be a Virgin, Mary’ was muffled mumbling.

“See,” Arthur says pointedly to Gwaine.

“You bought it for me.”

They bicker back and forth as Merlin turns to Lancelot. “Is that really how it goes?”

“Yup,” Lancelot replies.

“Good morning by the way, merry Christmas,” Gwaine says to Merlin with a kiss and quick but eager bum squeeze.

“Merry Christmas morning to you, too,” Merlin replies shyly. Having his bum squeezed in front of Arthur and Lancelot embarrasses him a little.

A cheerful pattern is tapped on the front door.

“Lancelot, will you greet our guest?” Arthur asks, glancing around the kitchen.

“With pleasure.”

“Should we eat straight away?” Arthur asks Gwaine and Merlin.

“Let’s leave it up to Gwen,” Gwaine suggests.

“Good idea.”

“I’ll change my shirt,” Gwaine adds.

“Another good idea, one more and you can have an early mark.”

“Hear that Merlin? If I behave I can get off early.” Gwaine grins down the hallway. Merlin is further embarrassed.

“Shouldn’t have said anything, turn everything dirty,” Arthur grumbles. He seems uncomfortable in the position of host.

“Thought you’d be used to being king of the castle at moments like this,” Merlin admits.

“Father was king. I was paraded in front of guests then kept out of sight. Everything was catered. I couldn’t prepare pot noodles before meeting Lancelot.”

“Nothing’s changed then,” Gwen jests with a friendly smile.

Arthur holds out a chair so she may sit and tells Merlin to pour Guinevere a drink of her choice while Lancelot drapes her coat across the back of her chair. Lancelot and Arthur sit either side of Gwen as Gwaine returns in a stylishly bland polo shirt. Merlin sits next to Lancelot with Gwaine on the other side and next to Arthur.

“Lancelot will say grace,” Arthur says before respectfully bowing his head.

The reverence of the others present prevents Merlin chortling. He witnesses the depth of Gwaine’s respect for Lancelot as he makes no satirical comment or gesture during Lancelot’s simple blessing upon the holiday, the company gathered and the meal they are about to share. Lancelot is clearly in his element.

Gwen starts the casual conversation as dishes are passed around the table with people helping themselves to what they like. It’s an eclectic selection with no real traditions represented, only what was easily stored and prepared in such a basic kitchen. “After my mother left, my father started a tradition of beans-on-toast for Christmas so we weren’t wasting half the day on washing up.”

“Wish you’d said something earlier.” Arthur glances plaintively at the overflowing sink and Gwen pulls her ‘don’t be cheeky, even if I do find it amusing’ face. Lancelot chuckles and describes the traditions of his foster family.

The meal is spent discussing past Christmases spent with their variously structured families. Gwen and Arthur were raised primarily by their fathers, Gwaine and Merlin by their mothers and Lancelot by non-relatives. Lancelot, Arthur and Gwaine lost their absent parents through death, Gwen and Merlin through desertion and disappearance.

“Yet here we are, forming one strange, little family,” Gwen says cheerily.

“What a lovely way to describe the relationships in this room,” Lancelot responds with sincere admiration. Arthur and Lancelot wear similar expressions as they look at Gwen and she develops a slight dither, almost knocking over her glass. Lancelot catches it before anything spills and their hands touch briefly. Arthur’s focus shifts to his plate to avoid being burned by their bright eye contact. That cements it for Merlin. Arthur isn’t gay, he’s interested in Gwen.

Merlin feels sorry for him, addressing him directly with a change of topic. “So Arthur, we’ve done Christmases past, we’re having Christmas present, what traditions would you like to establish for those to come?”

“Haven’t really thought about it,” Arthur admits with a small smile of gratitude for the diversion.

“Well I have,” Gwaine jumps in and describes a Christmas so ludicrous they all develop stitches from laughing. “What do you think?” he asks Merlin brightly.

“Sounds brilliant,” Merlin grins and quickly kisses Gwaine’s lips because it feels like the most natural thing to do. “Sorry,” he says, more for lonely Arthur’s benefit than Gwen or Lancelot.

“Don’t be,” Arthur replies earnestly ands points at the pair with the handle of his spoon. “It’s good to know Gwaine’s got someone who appreciates his worth.”

“Maybe then Gwaine will see past all the nonsense and realise it himself,’ Lancelot continues.

“Perhaps if you two didn’t give him such a hard time…” Merlin begins indignantly. Gwaine puts a hand on his knee and Merlin covers it with his.

“They’re right to do so. Not now, but perhaps when Lancelot and Arthur walk Gwen home,” Gwaine looks questioningly to his friends. All three of them nod, Arthur reluctantly. “I’d like to explain some things to you. I haven’t always behaved honourably…” Shades of aristocratic vocal tones suggest Gwaine feels his father would be disappointed in the man his son has become.

“Who has?” Merlin effectively uses his dimples to lighten the mood.

“Told you Gwaine,” Arthur says enigmatically.

“Yes, you did,” Gwaine says softly while looking at Merlin.

Merlin recognises the tiny ‘squee’ that escapes Gwen for what it is – anticipation of a cliché riddled, romance novel declaration of love – and gets embarrassed. Gwaine saves them all from Gwen’s girlie moment by instead turning to Lancelot and asking what his ideal Christmas might entail. The topic bounces across and around the table like a ping pong ball until everyone but Arthur has had a turn.

“Well Arthur?” Gwen smiles as brightly at Arthur as she does at Lancelot. Her body language is less shy toward Lancelot, her social equal, but Merlin can see that she doesn’t favour one over the other. Gwen is torn between letting herself develop feelings for either and so tries to feel nothing. It doesn’t appear to be working. Merlin suspects Gwen to be equally love struck with both. He feels sorry for all three of them now and doubly lucky that he has Gwaine. “What would make a perfect Christmas?” Gwen asks.

“This,” Arthur replies seriously, “not some formal affair for showing off. A spiritual gathering, surrounded by people who choose to be together, joined by friendship and trust.”

“And love,” Lancelot adds without looking at anyone in particular. “Amen.” He raises his glass and the companions complete the toast.

“You trust me?” Merlin asks Arthur, forgetting that no-one else at the table understands how important a point this is.

“I do.” Arthur smiles with serious eyes. Gwaine sits tensely between them until Arthur continues with drily delivered humour. “No images of my bedraggled willy have surfaced on the internet since your first visit…”

Gwaine laughs and Merlin relaxes with a genuine smile. Gwen asks “What’s this?” and all four males relay the story with aplomb.

#### 22\. What You Need

The shirt Merlin gives Gwaine features Pinocchio characters. The Blue Fairy sits on Pinocchio’s face with her mouth full of Geppetto who is saying ‘Quick Pinocchio, tell another lie’. Merlin waits until Gwaine’s boys are walking Gwen home to hand it over.

“This is brilliantly atrocious!” Gwaine is gorgeous when he grins, Merlin can’t deny it.

“Does it fit?”

“I’m not wearing that in front of you. I don’t want anything like that touching you.” Gwaine puts it on his dresser and touches one side of Merlin’s face with his other hand. “I shouldn’t be touching you.”

Merlin almost says ‘you’ve been more than touching me’ but Gwaine looks at him as though he’s a Faberge egg and Gwaine’s a sneak thief. “Why not?”

“Because I’m trouble and you’re perfect.” Merlin leans forward and kisses Gwaine. Gwaine pulls back, gently. “I don’t want you to be like the others Merlin. You’re worth more than that. I don’t know if I can give you…”

“You don’t have to give me anything.”

“I want to give you me without taking anything away from you. Do you see what I mean?”

“No,” Merlin admits.

“My history, I have a habit, I break my partners in Merlin and soon after move onto the next one. I don’t want to grow tired of you.”

“Is this a line? You make me feel unique, I give you what you want and the pattern continues?” He’s starting to understand why Arthur warned him off and why he is impressed with the longevity of their relationship. Arthur and Lancelot think Merlin and Gwaine have already crossed certain boundaries.

“No Merlin, that’s the point. You aren’t part of the pattern. You were going to be but Arthur…”

“Arthur what?!” Merlin steps back from Gwaine.

“He told me to treat you with the respect you deserve or find somewhere else to live. I fell in love with you without being told to, if that changes anything. I love you Merlin. I haven’t been taking things slow to score points with Arthur and Lancelot but because I want to stay with you. If it means letting you top… I’m not sure how I’ll go, but for you I’m willing to try. I’d cut my willy off to keep you.”

Merlin laughs. He can’t help it.

“Yeah, pathetic I know,” Gwaine admits. “There are more drastically romantic ways to express that but let’s face it, without my willy I’m nothing. Without you I’m empty.”

“You love me?” Merlin asks.

“I love you.” Gwaine stands before him, fully clothed yet completely exposed. Or is he? He lies and admits he lies. He and Arthur excel at seduction, especially when it comes to dweebs like Merlin.

“I want to believe you.”

“But you don’t.”

“I can’t.”

“How can I prove it?”

Merlin shrugs. “When did it start? When did I drop out of the pattern?”

“When you offered to draw runes on my bum, no I lie. It was before that, when you asked Arthur if Lancelot and I were drawn to him like children to an ice-cream van.”

“Sucking me off in a stairwell on our first date, that was going slow for you?”

“I wanted to fuck you instead of going out at all, so yes, excruciatingly slow, practically reverse.”

“I wanted to fuck you too,” Merlin admits.

“Now’s your chance.” Gwaine stands with his arms out at his sides. “I’m yours, do as you will.”

Merlin is tempted to walk away and never speak to him again, for about half a millisecond anyway, before commanding Gwaine to get his kit off and get onto that bed. Merlin helps him, kisses, licks, touches and nips at him because now he doesn’t care if his inexperience scares Gwaine away. He wants, he wants, he wants and blood pulses through his cock chanting just that want, want, want, want, want, now, now, now.

He wanted to fuck Gwaine the first time he saw that grin, those dark eyes hungry for him. Gwaine didn’t have to wait. They could have fucked in the shadows of the residential area that night and no-one would know. He could have made Merlin felt cheap and pathetic anytime, anywhere. He slows down. This is his first foray, the one everyone claims he will never forget. Does he want to remember it like this?

“You don’t have to tell me you love me Gwaine. The sight of you turns me on.”

Gwaine helps Merlin out of his jeans. His erection is already forcing its way out of his underwear. “So it does.”

“You’re the expert on virgins, what should we do next?” They kiss and touch as Merlin becomes as naked as Gwaine.

“Stop talking Merlin and finger fuck me. Do it right and I’ll be begging for your cock and unable to breathe.”

“As simple as that?” Merlin asks and lies on top of him. Their cocks touch and their hips automatically start moving. This is nothing new. Merlin curves a hand under Gwaine’s buttock and gives it a squeeze as their tongues meet. No wonder Gwaine enjoys doing that to him. Merlin slips his index finger between Gwaine’s cheeks, moves his hand up and down. “Just stick it to you?” Merlin blows the question past Gwaine’s ear. He knows there’s more than that. He reads and writes porn after all.

“Messy stuff’s all taken care of while I was in the bathroom. Lube me up, tickle the starfish, have a play, dive on in. I made up my mind while sucking cum from your cock this morning that this is how I want to be with you.”

Merlin moans. “Mm, you’re very good at sucking my cock but I love the way you suck your cum from my throat.”

They continue talking along those lines as Gwaine opens the lube and they slick Merlin's fingers. He tickles and teases Gwaine because he doesn’t want this to be over too quickly. He softens and hardens again by the time presses in with a fingertip. He has to press harder than he expected. Maybe he should have started with his pinkie and worked his way up. Once he’s in though…

“Oh g-n, g’oh,” Gwaine declares then relaxes. Merlin feels the difference in the muscular ring around his finger. He turns and probes, pulls out and kisses Gwaine, hinting at him to roll over onto his stomach. “I normally face…” Gwaine begins to protest mildly.

“I’m different,” Merlin reminds him. He sees Gwaine’s balls move and feels their cock’s twitch against each other. Gwaine rolls over and his arse lifts reflexively as Merlin kisses his shoulder and back. Merlin takes advantage of that to get his index finger into position.

“Thooo,” Gwaine inhales and his knee slides along the mattress, granting Merlin better access along with a rather nice visual. His hips move as Merlin's finger explores his tight arse. He seems to like the way Merlin's knuckles move against his buttocks which is good, because Merlin enjoys how it feels to push his finger in deep and stir it around.

“Ready for more?” Merlin can’t believe that’s his voice asking that question. It sounds like a stranger.

“Yes, more.”

He’s never heard Gwaine sound like that either and they’ve made lots of noises together since September. Gwaine wasn’t lying. Everything he told Merlin tonight is true. He can’t explain how he knows, only that something in Gwaine’s voice as he grants Merlin permission strips away all his doubts. Merlin carefully opens this man who loves him, kissing and complimenting as he goes because Gwaine is sexy, gorgeous, fun, and Merlin needn’t be ashamed of loving him in return.

“Can’t wait,” he says urgently against Gwaine’s back after fucking him with two fingers. His cock has softened and hardened three times and now it pulses angrily as his balls demand satisfaction.

Gwaine holds the edge of the mattress and lifts onto his knees, head down and bum up, waiting. Merlin resists the urge to wank as he puts the condom on, because the sight of Gwaine like that puts strain on his balls. Gwaine resists Merlin's knob. He and Gwaine have to relax a bit. He plays with Gwaine’s opening and when the tension eases pushes his cock-head in. Muscles welcome and resist his intrusion at the same time. Nothing could have prepared him for this. Nothing compares. He almost comes with the first short thrust.

Merlin closes his eyes and just wiggles his hips slowly because god that feels miraculous and then it suddenly isn’t enough and he pushes faster and further into Gwaine.

“Yes,” the say together the first time he gets all the way in and his groin hits Gwaine’s bum. ‘Oh-hoh yes!”

Merlin gives it hard and Gwaine takes it but not for as long as Merlin would like because he’s already coming. The slick warmth of release has never been more unwelcome – okay, that time at the school swimming carnival was less welcome for an entire catalogue of reasons. Before Merlin can say ‘no, too soon’ to his independent scrotum, Gwaine tenses all over and cries out.

“Oh good god!” Merlin's cock responds to Gwaine’s verbal ejaculation because he can feel the words thrumming through his member. “I’ve never come without actually sprogging before!” Gwaine pushes back, almost grinding against Merlin who can feel Gwaine’s muscles going crazy before he drops down onto the mattress, making Merlin's droopy cock flop out sans condom which dangles from Gwaine’s arse. Not the triumphant climax Merlin hoped for. “That does it Merlin, I am never topping again. Get down here and kiss me.” That’s more like it. He drapes half on, half next to Gwaine and they kiss passionately. “Be a dear and pull that second skin out of my arse.”

Merlin laughs which makes Gwaine laugh which makes it difficult to extract the dangly mess. He manages to remove and dispose of the thing. Gwaine is under the covers and inviting Merlin to join him in a flash.

“Your past doesn’t matter to me Gwaine,” Merlin assures him as he slips into the warm bed. “This, now, is what matters.”

Gwaine kisses him with fingers catching in his hair. “You’re remarkable Merlin and you deserve to know.”

“That I’m remarkable?” Merlin asks cheekily and Gwaine agrees with a grin.

“That you are.” He kisses Merlin again and squeezes his bum.

“Is this for real then?” Merlin asks. He didn’t care before Gwaine made his admission, now it’s important. “Arthur isn’t going to give you a car or something…?”

“You need to know how real this is? You asked me months ago did I love Arthur. I thought I did until I found you. Is that real enough for you?”

“Does he know…?”

Gwaine presses Merlin's lips together between fingers and thumb. “He knows how I felt about him and how I feel about you. He said you’d break the curse I built for myself and set me free if I was smart enough to be honest with you. So I have been, and you did, and I love you.”

“I met Arthur before,” Merlin nearly says it. He wants to say it, needs to – but can’t. He can say this, though: “I love you too.” And he does.

#### 23\. Now We’re Getting Somewhere

Merlin hurries into socks, fleecy pants and a flannelette shirt – what he normally sleeps in on cold nights when Gwaine isn’t in his bed – and tiptoes to the loo. After a long, loud pee he continues to Gwaine’s kitchen to rehydrate. He can’t remember what cupboard glasses are in and Arthur startles him by opening the correct door as Merlin closes a wrong one.

“Too cold for nudity?” Merlin asks softly then apologises for waking him.

“Wasn’t asleep.” Arthur looks like he has a lot on his mind.

“Did Lancelot stay at Gwen’s?” Merlin hopes he doesn’t sound sympathetic.

“No.” Arthur puts a small saucepan on the stove and pours some milk into it. “He probably would have if I hadn’t been forced to tag along.” He takes chocolate powder out of the smallest cupboard above the kettle and shakes it enquiringly at Merlin.

“Sorry,” Merlin says as he nods yes to hot chocolate. “Thank you though. Gwaine explained why you warned me off. He thinks that’s why you never…”

“There are lots of reasons why we never.”

“None of my business,” Merlin apologises.

“He’s your boyfriend, we have a strange history. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t worry about stuff like that. You are still together, he hasn’t…?”

“Reverted to type? He hasn’t had the opportunity.” Merlin’s mind cruelly goes back to the days of practicing putting a condom on with one hand in case he got lucky with his graduation date. He used to get hard looking at the website and would wank with the sheath on over fantasies fuelled by the shower picture. Looking at Arthur now he realises those pictures were artful manipulations merging Arthur’s head with Gwaine’s body. A body he vigorously fucked, and that’s sleeping naked down the hallway while Merlin talks to Arthur’s head here in the kitchen. It’s messing with his mind too much to let him climb back into bed next to Gwaine. Better stay, have the hot chocolate, say something. “I thought you were gay, the way we – you were very convincing.” Merlin didn’t want to say that. He’d been happily convinced that he no longer had the need to think or talk about this now things were solid with Gwaine. Almost solid, more solid… crap, how are things with Gwaine again, exactly?

“My life is filled with politicians and PR manipulators. I’ve been trained to lie since birth.”

“So you’re not then?” Merlin asks to clarify.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I was hoping to find out – not with you, not in particular. The same services were available to females.”

“I don’t understand,” Merlin admits.

“What do most political scandals involve Merlin?” Arthur asks as he pours steaming milk into mugs.

“Sex?” Merlin accepts and stirs his hot chocolate.

“I come from a political family with a fair share of scandal attached. My half-sister Morgana is also my cousin, and that’s the tamest dragon chained in the Pendragon dungeon. Sex was discussed as a weapon or a threat rather than an expression of affection in our social circles. It put me off acknowledging or indulging in any related activity from a young age.”

Merlin snorts and nudges Arthur with his elbow. “Boy for Sale.” He sips at his drink. It doesn’t compare to coffee by Gwaine but it’s still rather tasty.

“I played the same price game with everyone, not just you, making sure in advance that no-one could afford what I wasn’t up for. Anonymity gave me the opportunity to explore where I wouldn’t dare while under my father or sister’s eagle eyes. Father would be denied access to a number of governments if I was linked to a boy. The fuss he made over Gwaine without knowing about… Long-term suppression meant everything made me horny – flies going at it on cat poop got me hard during puberty! But I never found anyone who interested me enough to take the risk. Don’t take that as an insult. One night of dancing and pleasant company can’t tear down fortifications built over a lifetime. Physical intimacy beyond snogging terrifies me.”

Merlin understands. Arthur genuinely liked him when they met and had been worried that Merlin knew who he was, possibly tracked him to the university to blackmail him. Exchanging numbers with Gwaine so quickly wouldn’t have helped, yet Arthur had been concerned for Merlin in case his original opinion had been correct. Talking here quietly in the night, if they’d met for the first time at university – don’t go there brain! Merlin forces his thoughts to change tack. “Gwen’s helping you with that though, isn’t she? Lowering your defences,” he says across the top of his warm chocolate as though blowing across it. The temperature is perfect but this way he can quickly sip it to avoid saying something mutually mortifying.

“Guinevere would find her way into anyone’s heart.” Arthur immediately takes a long, somehow polite slurp from his mug. “You feel you can confide almost anything and feel awful when you lie to her.”

Merlin's heart plays an erratic drum solo. That’s what Gwaine said about him. Arthur loves Gwen. Who does Gwen love? The circumstance is so tragic. Merlin wants all of these people to be happy but unless they find a sixth to even the numbers that isn’t about to happen. Someone would always be on the outer. For once it isn’t Merlin but still, not a happy thought on which to end an otherwise jolly Christmas.  
“Arthur?”

“What now, Merlin?”

“Neither Lancelot nor Gwaine would think less of you for the way we met, how you financed your, or Gwaine’s gap year. Not with the reasons you gave.”

“Gwaine will believe I happily gave everything I denied him to strangers. Even though it’s untrue and he’s in love with you now, it won’t make that hurt him any less.”

Merlin starts cheering for Gwen to choose Arthur where he’d previously been pro-Lancelot. It must show on his face.

“I’m not as noble as you think. The vast coffers containing my secrets may be locked to protect those I care about but they exist primarily to benefit me. Guinevere,” Arthur looks into the bottom of his mug as he swirls it around then drinks the dregs. “Guinevere is more suited to the honest likes of Lancelot. Go back to bed Merlin, before Gwaine notices you’re missing and gets the wrong idea.”

Merlin wants to hug poor lonely Arthur but that would definitely give Gwaine the wrong idea. It might give Merlin the wrong idea. There has to be some comfort he can give.

“Have I told you lot about the great guy who came to grad with me? Oliver knew I didn’t have a date and although I was the school pariah he made my evening both memorable and thoroughly enjoyable, when he wasn’t being a smarmy git.”

Arthur sits against the counter like he did on that unexpectedly naked morning and looks at Merlin. His expression isn’t blank but there’s nothing in it Merlin can read. “Thank you Merlin,” he says solemnly.

“Thank you Arthur.”

Arthur pushes off the counter with both hands then rubs them together. “There, we’ve talked about it and now need never discuss it again, agreed?”

“Agreed.”

Things feel much less complicated as Merlin nestles in beside Gwaine. Gwaine turns to kiss his shoulder. “I thought you fell in.”

“No, just needed a drink afterwards. Arthur was up so I thought I’d let him know they don’t have to worry about us anymore.”

Gwaine partially opens one eye. “Love you Merlin.”

“Love you too.”

Merlin kisses Gwaine’s lips and they fall asleep in a cuddly bundle.

#### 24\. Armageddon it

Merlin wants more of Gwaine before he gets out of bed. He wants to slide right in but knows he can’t. His erection pulses against the side of Gwaine’s bum, yearning to be inside.

“Steady on lover-boy,” Gwaine grumbles as Merlin's hand polishes the curve of his buttock, “that was a first for me too.”

Merlin's palm pauses but his fingertips brush between Gwaine’s cheeks. “Didn’t you like it?” he asks teasingly with a kiss to Gwaine’s shoulder. He doesn’t doubt for a moment that last night was mutually satisfying, the way Gwaine moved his hips to welcome Merlin deeper and his orgasmic exclamation prove he enjoyed being a bottom.

“More than I thought I would,” Gwaine admits before kissing Merlin's lips.

“Does that bother you?” Merlin asks with gentle curiosity. He tops in all his fantasies and wonders what it would be like if the situations were reversed.

“It did at first but then it was all too ‘hell yeah’ to care.”

“Then why not?” Merlin puts a leg over him, touching and looking at this incredible body he needs to fuck. Gwaine grumbles something with ‘superstition’ in it. “Superstitions aside, I’d like to start my day inside you and end it the same way,” Merlin says seductively.

Gwaine stops resisting, relaxing from his extremities to his spine. The difference it makes to the lines of his muscles evokes a soft growl of approval from Merlin. He grazes his teeth across Gwaine’s shoulder as he positions himself above and behind, teasing between Gwaine’s cheeks before putting one finger in Gwaine’s mouth. He licks and sucks as Merlin's cock begins to rut in the groove of his bum. Merlin doesn’t think. His body and instinct are in control as his wet finger breaches Gwaine’s resistance. He lies directly on Gwaine’s back and they kiss, tongues battling as he slicks lube over his fingers, condom-covered cock and Gwaine. He wages friendly war on Gwaine’s backside, infiltrating his defences with one finger at a time, until Gwaine surrenders and hands control to Merlin's Field Marshall.

One forearm is pinned under Gwaine’s shoulder with the opposite hand grasping the pillow beside Gwaine’s head as Merlin’s hips start a fluid movement that stutters occasionally while he enters and leaves heaven. Muscular cheeks feel roundly resilient against Merlin's groin as he pumps quickly, shallowly, reluctant to withdraw too far lest he lose momentum. His balls are rolled and squeezed against Gwaine as their bodies meet. Merlin grunts. Gwaine groans. Gwaine’s grip on the edge of the bed tenses and relaxes as he comes. Merlin's mouth closes over the back of Gwaine’s shoulder without biting as his climax follows. He wishes his cock was ready to go again so he could do this with Gwaine all day, all night and into tomorrow. Then they could rest.

He tells his boyfriend this, as the last of his cum is ejected and his cock begins to shrink. Merlin is disappointed in his shrivelling dick. His favourite pornographic fiction involves a guy who stays hard after coming, pumping into the sprog filled mouth/arse of his partner until he’s ready to go again or just long enough to make erotically sloppy, sticky sounds and force sprog back out. He isn’t lust-crazed enough to consider licking or sucking it from Gwaine's arse. He’d lick it off his back though, seriously.

“Unholy fuck,” he stammers against Gwaine’s shoulder. His hips perform one last desperate circle and his dick deserts its post.

“Want to fuck me some more?” Gwaine teases. “I won’t have a ring left come New Year.”

Merlin's hands slide under Gwaine to hold him up as Merlin presses down on his back. Merlin's lower hand encounters cooling stickiness. A primal rumble accompanies the knowledge that he made his lover come without touching his cock.

“Proud of yourself?” Gwaine asks with a roll of his pelvis.

“M-hm.” Merlin nods against Gwaine. He can’t contain a smug smile which blossoms into a full grin.

#### 25\. Would I Lie to You?

Merlin will never be the same again. He feels so completely different, unconquerable. He grins at the floor as he strides with hands in pockets to the kitchen for brunch. He’d managed to give Gwaine another go less than two hours after their morning glory and kept better control of things too.

Legend!

Lancelot is setting up a simple game involving a small box of laminated cards reminiscent of the word game Taboo, and nods a brief greeting. Arthur’s expression is neither condescending nor impressed with Merlin's new status as he glances from Merlin to Gwaine then back before saying hello. Gwaine’s eyes look down to the table and the temperature of the room drops by a degree or two.

“Coffee’s made, on the bench, your usual mug,” Lancelot tells Merlin as though everything’s normal.

Okay, maybe Merlin's being oversensitive and Gwaine didn’t just reject him in front of his boys. “What you got there, Lancelot?” he asks.

“A game Gwen made.” Lancelot looks at him eagerly now he’s got all the elements sorted. “Care to play?”

“Have you played it before?” Merlin asks suspiciously.

“It was intended for yesterday, a kind of get-to-know-you activity for after lunch but she forgot to bring it.”

“Given Guinevere’s saucy sense of humour we thought we’d play without her first,” Arthur explains.

“That’s a bit – I was going to say mean but it sounds sensible. I’m in. Gwaine, you playing too?” Merlin isn’t happy with the uncertainty in his voice.

“If the questions get too personal…”

“Then we misplace any offending cards, hence the trial run.”

“Sneakiness Lancelot, from you?” Gwaine asks in exaggerated astonishment. Merlin feels the room grow comfortably warm again. So he hadn’t imagined the cold shoulder earlier. Perhaps what happened between him and Gwaine doesn’t fit in with Gwaine’s idea of himself. Is he worried his friends will think him less of a man or something?

“I’m also familiar with Gwen’s sense of humour. Righto let’s begin. We’ll forget the scoring system for now. Each card has three related questions. Whoever spins the spinner thus,” Lancelot flicks the plastic arrow and the pointy bit lands closest to Arthur, “selects a card and asks the questions. The gimp indicated by the arrow, in this case Arthur, answers first with play continuing in a clockwise direction. Listen to the tricky bit: the second person to answer is first to respond to the second question, meaning that the person who originally answered third answers the last question on the card first. Need that explaining again?”

“Did you understand what you just said?” Arthur asks Lancelot. Lancelot nods. “Then explain it again when we get to that.”

Lancelot nods. “Back to simple: once all questions on a card have been answered, the next player spins. We’ll ignore the fiddly details for this run through.”

“Trust a woman to complicate things,” Gwaine mutters. “Pick a card Lancelot.”

“Topic is kisses. 1 – First kiss.”

“Gwaine,” Arthur responds. Lancelot and Gwaine say it with him as though it’s the world’s most known fact. Then it’s Merlin's turn.

“Will.”

“Lucy,” was Lancelot’s first kiss.

“Arthur.”

“So if nothing happened with you two, why are you each other’s first kiss?” Merlin asks.

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Gwaine replies, “and it wasn’t French or anything.”

“Father saw it start, put an immediate stop to it and delivered the first of many,”

“Many,” Gwaine emphasises.

“…lectures on not disgracing the Pendragon name.”

“Hypocrite,” Gwaine sings the syllables.

“2 – Last kiss,” Lancelot interjects firmly. “Merlin answers first.”

“Gwaine.”

“And here I’d been worrying you snogged the stray cat after I left the room,” Gwaine quips.

“Hilda,” Lancelot replies.

“You mean,” Arthur and Gwaine make big boob gestures as Arthur asks, “Hilda from Father’s kitchen staff?”

“Boo-yah!” Gwaine declares after Lancelot nods.

“When did you manage that?”

“Your official eighteenth, while you were blowing out the candles.”

“What happened?” Arthur asks solemnly, as if anticipating Lancelot’s answer.

“Uther fired her.”

Lancelot’s friends are quiet. “For kissing you?” Merlin ventures to ask quietly.

“He told her to complete her evening duties without fuss if she wanted a reference. Uther had every nook and cranny of the townhouse covered by security cameras.”

“Which is why Arthur’s a…” Gwaine is silenced by a frown by Arthur. “Sorry. My last kiss was Merlin, in case anyone’s forgotten.”

With Lancelot between them on one side and Arthur dividing them on the other he can’t give his boyfriend another kiss to reinforce that without leaning across the table. Luckily for Merlin, Gwaine doesn’t try it because his attention is divided. Who was Arthur’s last kiss?

“Come on Arthur. Give us the name of that spitfire you met during gap.” Gwaine bounces eagerly in his seat. Lancelot leans forward without saying anything. “Pretty please,” Gwaine pleads.

“I don’t remember…”

“Gender or something,” Lancelot urges.

“Does it matter?” Merlin asks abruptly. He wants to know too but in a way would rather not.

“Merlin,” Arthur says.

Merlin can’t tell if he’s answering the question or telling him to stay out of it because Lancelot is talking again. “Yes or no then, was the mysterious spitfire you mentioned,”

“Monotonously,” Gwaine interjects.

“…the last person you kissed?” Lancelot finishes.

“Yes.”

“Right, moving along and it’s my turn to respond first. That round was painful. This one could be worse. 3 – Best kiss. I hate to say it, Morgana.”

Arthur and Gwaine turn to him with mouths and eyes open. “No!” they declare in unison.

“I surprised her with a snog after Uther fired Hilda and she slapped me. I explained why I stooped to such a level and then Morgana instigated a proper smooch session. Uther couldn’t fire or punish her, and he didn’t dare threaten me because she’d already caused him so much trouble over the years and would accept any excuse to cause more.”

Merlin joins in the applause from Arthur and Gwaine. Lancelot rises slightly from his seat to take a gallant bow. “Okay Gwaine, your go.”

“…Merlin.” He’s lying. His hesitancy, closed body language, and glance at Arthur tell all. Merlin didn’t expect it to be him but he didn’t think Gwaine would lie.

“Spitfire,” Arthur admits. Gwaine seems disappointed. He’s due for more.

“Oliver,” Merlin says softly and honestly without looking at Arthur. Regardless of whom spitfire is or how passionately Gwaine kisses Merlin, Arthur’s free kiss is the one which all others are measured against.

“You never mentioned him before…” Gwaine begins.

“We only went out once. I’m not his type,” because Gwen is, “I’d rather not talk about it. How can Hilda,” Merlin performs the big-boob gesture, “be Lancelot’s last kiss if Morgana’s magnificent smooch occurred after…?”

“Hilda deserved a kiss goodbye,” Lancelot admits with a gently dimpled smile. Merlin smiles back.

“Unless the next card is about sports, I’m not playing.” Arthur folds his arms gruffly. He stretches his legs out under the table, accidentally collides with Merlin, and mumbles an apology without looking at him.

“Bloody women, always gossiping and conniving to get men talking about their feelings, but this,” Gwaine gestures at the cards, “is a new low.”

Merlin laughs because although it’s underhanded, it nearly worked. Gwen could have sounded out his relationship with Gwaine plus found out where she stood with Lancelot and Arthur. “Gwen’s a manipulative genius!”

“Who would have suspected sweet, innocent Gwen?” Lancelot is mesmerised and the tension is broken as they all laugh and claim they have recognised several suspicious things about her all along. They spend an enjoyable ninety five minutes making up their own cards to replace any originals that earn their disapproval.

By the time Merlin's boyfriend escorts him home and they share their usual second rate kiss goodbye, he’s only told himself three score and eleven times that nothing will change just because Arthur knows his kisses are Merlin's most memorable. It doesn’t matter that Gwaine secretly shares Merlin's opinion, because they both felt that way before saying ‘I love you’.

“I love you,” Gwaine says in a hush, clearly trying to make this their best kiss because he’s speaking honestly.

Merlin responds with the same words and intent. It isn’t a lie on his side. Nor is it entirely the truth. ‘I think I might love the one I’m with because I can’t be with the one I possibly love’ simply doesn’t have the same ring to it.

#### 26\. Bad Influence

Merlin's dreams are almost identical for the next week.

…Thirteen year old Gwaine is miserable due to loss of father and home, his mother is in hospital and he may lose her too. Arthur stands nearby, hopelessly trying to offer comfort. Morgana (wearing the frock and tiara from the Christmas postcard, sans vomit) strides up, says “like this, idiot” and hugs Gwaine. She French kisses him before pushing him into Arthur’s arms. The two friends stand cheek to cheek, then closer, then Gwaine kisses Arthur – a fleeting thank you kiss – and then they kiss properly, the way Arthur kissed Merlin. A faceless tyrant drags Arthur away, shouting ‘homosexual’ like it’s a profanity. Young Gwaine tries to follow and a door is slammed in his face…

It reminds Merlin of losing Will but the second act follows before he stirs enough to shed tears.

…Mature Gwaine waits in bed, naked. Arthur joins him, naked. They whisper, smile and touch each other’s faces as they kiss, continue kissing as Gwaine rolls onto his stomach and Arthur gets comfortable on top of him. Things start. Arthur says ‘No, this doesn’t feel right. Change.’ Gwaine dissolves into the bed or evaporates or something and Arthur lies between the sheets with Merlin. ‘This seems more like ‘us’, agreed?’ Arthur’s dick doesn’t hang limp and ordinary as he and Merlin make the kind of love Merlin writes about in his romantic rather than raunchy fan-fictions – then they go it hard. Arthur calls him Spitfire at the pivotal moment…

And Merlin wakes up with a hard-on that could double as a battering ram.

Gwaine is beside him when he wakes up like that on New Year’s Eve after falling asleep without a nookie. Merlin nudges him awake, wordlessly encourages him into the same sexual position as dream Arthur, pinning Gwaine’s wrists flat on the bed above his head while Merlin fucks his raised arse from behind. He feels guilty after he comes until Gwaine tells him that was the most incredible sex of his life.

“Or it will be if you suck while I come.”

Merlin's lips and tongue wrap around Gwaine’s knob and he’s done.

“Spitfire…” Gwaine gasps.

“Don’t call me that. No stupid pet names.”

“It’s an after sex adjective, like ‘incredible’ or ‘remarkable’. You’re strong, a force to be reckoned with, like the warplane.”

“Don’t care. Epithets can refer to anyone.”

“Is that your way of calling me a libertine? Need I point out you’re acting more like me than I am since…?” Gwaine breaks their increasingly angry eye contact.

“Since you’re no longer Top dog? Would you rather we swap?” Merlin asks carefully.

“No. That would only lead to trouble of a different kind.”

“There’s nothing submissive about you Gwaine. I don’t see you as weak or…”

“Be quiet Merlin.”

“I want this to work too you know. I **need** this to work.” He earnestly cuddles against Gwaine and hopes he isn’t coming across as desperate. _Did your previous former virgins cling to you like this? Are you accustomed to such pathetic longing?_ Merlin's questions are answered as Gwaine returns his embrace. The stiffness and minute trembling in their limbs is identical. Neither wants to let go yet wonders how long they can hold on.

“Already you’ve made me a better man.”

Their huddle doesn’t relax until they slip back into sleep.

Merlin remembers why he had been avoiding Arthur before Christmas, because he’s with Gwaine. He belongs with Gwaine and thoughts of Arthur belong in anyone’s head but Merlin's – or Gwaine’s. This relationship releases potential long-dormant in each partner and they begin spending all of their spare time together from New Year’s Day because they both need this to succeed.

During the day they walk, sit, talk or make out between classes. They’re up late every night drinking, socialising, sucking and fucking. They go to Chalkies with their mutual friends on Fridays because they spend every night in either Gwaine or Merlin's bed.

After three weeks, Merlin is running on empty. He has major assessments due or overdue and can’t focus during class. His hand trembles so he can’t fit the key in the lock for his room after meeting with the Dean of Science. Gwen’s steady hand silently takes the key and opens the door.

“My scholarship’s under threat,” he confides as she follows him in without invitation, “because I’ve forgotten two lab shifts, I can’t keep up with the workload…”

Gwen takes gentle hold of his arm. “Being in love doesn’t mean you have to spend every minute in each other’s pockets.”

He should have known Gwen would understand what’s been going on. Her major electives focus on psychology and students with special needs after all. Gwen and Arthur; determined to save the world one student at a time. Merlin nods to acknowledge her advice, which he fully intends to ignore. He has to ensure he stays in love with Gwaine because Gwaine is in love with him, and the only way to do this is to ensure there’s no room for either of them to think about anyone else.

Especially not Arthur...

#### 27\. Do You See What I See?

Gwaine plonks himself casually across Merlin's lap and nudges Lancelot’s thigh with one foot.

“No, I’m not giving up my spot on the couch so you two can fornicate while watching telly.”

“For your information Lancelot, we do that Thursday mornings while you all have earlier starts. I simply wish to inform you that your woman’s arguing with our boy again.”

“Are you two together now?” Merlin asks Lancelot. Gwen hasn’t said anything about making up her mind. He wishes Gwaine hadn’t mentioned the couch sex, though. How embarrassing.

“No. What’s it about this time, Gwaine?”

“Same as every time: me and Merlin.”

“Why do they argue about us?” Merlin wasn’t aware that the pair properly argued over anything. He gets no answer from either slice of pumpernickel and wriggles out from under Gwaine’s weight to go see. “Come on Gwaine, get off.”

“In front of Lancelot? You saucy devil.”

There are occasions when Gwaine’s constant humour grates and this is one. Merlin wonders if the argument will still be going when he finds them, if he finds them. How hard can it be? It’s a tiny house – oh, they’re outside. Merlin doesn’t burst through the door demanding to know what the problem is, that’s Gwaine’s realm. Their voices aren’t raised but he can hear clearly and identify their mutual irritation.

“…control over him!” is where Merlin comes in. He remains in the shadowed laundry to eavesdrop.

“He isn’t a dog Guinevere.”

“If he was he could be neutered. Merlin's at risk of losing his scholarship.”

“How is that my fault? Don’t start with that ‘responsible for friends’ nonsense. They’re adults. If they want to spend out-of-class time rutting…”

“Merlin isn’t like that Arthur, you said so yourself.”

“Clearly I was wrong because he clearly is.”

“He isn’t like Gwaine.”

“Perhaps not or perhaps he simply lacked the opportunity before, perhaps if he’d had a date or two between the ages of fourteen and now he would have discovered earlier that he was a complete profligate.”

“A what?”

“Sex fiend.”

“Merlin is not and never has been a sex fiend.”

“How would you know Guinevere? Merlin was no shrinking violet when he and Gwaine laid eyes on each other. You knew him a whole two weeks before they met…”

“Speaking of which, why do neither of your friends know you and Merlin met before semester started?”

“We didn’t.” Arthur sounds like he’s trying not to clench his jaw as he speaks. 

“So those images of Merlin with his enigmatic, golden haired graduation date on his school’s website aren’t actually of you, and him, together?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Arthur’s tone is suddenly cold. This is how Merlin imagines Uther sounded when he caught Gwaine kissing his son. Gwen’s discovery shocks Merlin into silence.

“I went searching for grad pictures of Gwaine and Merlin to manipulate into a Valentine’s Day thing and found actual images of Merlin with you.”

“It isn’t me.”

“Then you have an identical twin named Oliver…”

“It isn’t…”

“Bit of a coincidence don’t you think? He even sounds like you in the video clip. You seem very happy together. What happened?”

“Nothing happened, it was a one off.”

“You’re sure about that? You’re not planning some spectacular gesture on Thursday to woo him back?”

“I had been hoping to spend Valentine’s Day with you, but since you clearly prefer Lancelot and have me married off to Merlin…!”

Merlin watches Gwen stand on tiptoes and pull Arthur down for a kiss. Not some shy, virginal kiss either. This woman means business. Arthur appears startled at first then begins kissing her back with great enthusiasm. He puts his hands at the back of her waist—and dips her!

It goes on.

Merlin can’t watch any more.

Arthur and Guinevere!

The ache it causes is too extreme to be purely on Lancelot’s behalf. Merlin might have fun with Gwaine and be determined to fall in love with him, but he’s already in love with Arthur and has been struggling to deny it all along.

#### 28\. Turn a Blind Eye

Merlin returns to Gwaine and Lancelot. He wonders how to tell Lancelot or if he even should. Gwaine builds an inroad. “Did you get them to kiss and make up?”

“They’re managing fine on their own. His consistent rejection of your amorous overtures may be nothing personal after all Gwaine. Arthur prefers kissing girls, a girl, Gwen.”

Merlin has never seen Lancelot truly despondent before.

“He wouldn’t do that to you mate,” Gwaine calmly reassures Lancelot. “We all know how you feel about Gwen. He said only this morning that she’s equally besotted by you.”

Merlin doesn’t want to defend Arthur or Gwen. He wants this nonsense to stop before it progresses beyond a spontaneous kiss. That return kiss wasn’t spontaneous though, was it? He knows exactly what he’s doing. You remember the deliberate way he kisses, don’t you, so you feel it in your knees… “Gwen kissed him first!” he blurts. He’s ashamed of how vividly he does remember after so long. He can still feel it, all of it. He wants Gwen away from Arthur, now.

Arthur is an impossible blend of meek and triumphant as he and Gwen return to a room alive with silence. They aren’t holding hands or anything to hint at what they’ve been up to. The triumph in Arthur’s eyes turns to guilt as he catches sight of Lancelot. Merlin is confident that Lancelot will put a stop to this. He’ll call Arthur out for being whatever it is that Arthur is.

“So you finally know what you want. Congratulations.”

Merlin is astounded. Everyone is wrong footed by Lancelot’s response to this travesty.

Gwen looks wounded and confused, as though hoping Lancelot might put up a fight and insist she kissed the wrong man. Her expression smoothly shifts to one of determination as she takes Arthur’s hand. “Yes, he does.”

Arthur glances with astonishment at this strange phenomenon of a woman holding his hand then reads Gwen’s countenance the way he scrutinises cryptic crosswords in the newspaper during Sunday breakfast.

Merlin is appalled by how crisply that image forms in his mind and by how quick he has always been to volunteer solutions while supposedly concentrating on Gwaine. Arthur’s fingers accept Gwen’s grasp. Merlin wishes he possessed telekinetic powers so he could place something painfully hot between their joined hands and they would be forced to let go. He stares and concentrates all his energy at the obscenity with no result.

“You backstabbing prick.” Gwaine’s words fall flat and heavy like a concrete slab. Merlin thinks for a moment that the slab has been dropped on him.

“You’ve moved on Gwaine,” Gwen responds boldly. “Why shouldn’t Arthur?”

“I didn’t move on with my close friend’s love interest!”

Yes you did, tell him Arthur, tell them I’m the spitfire! Let it be me.

“Well, actually…” Gwen begins. Arthur applies pressure to her fingers without letting go.

“He’s referring to Lancelot,” Arthur explains.

“Lancelot?” Gwen asks the man in question with overtones of ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’, leaning forward as though to take a step toward him and accept his advance.

“There’s been a misunderstanding. I haven’t harboured a love interest since a single kiss from me saw Hilda the busty kitchen maid dismissed.”

“Oh.” Gwen resumes her upright posture, all dignity and feminine poise. “Well then, Arthur, would you walk me home?”

“With this weather I think it’s best if we drive. Where’s your coat?”

Merlin wants to hate Gwen as Arthur follows her out the door, but he can’t. Couldn’t she tell Lancelot was lying, hiding his affection for her behind his pride? Lancelot is too honourable to hate. Arthur didn’t ask Gwen to kiss him or for Lancelot to stand idly by. Merlin picks a fight with Gwaine because he can’t argue out loud with himself.

“You still have feelings for Arthur!”

“You know I don’t, not like that!”

Lancelot retreats to his room, granting Merlin and Gwaine some privacy in which to have their make or break argument.

#### 29\. Pleasure and Pain

Merlin dramatically cuts back on socialising. He needs to salvage his reputation as a dedicated and talented student before his scholarship is revoked and he sent packing, back to Mummy, the failure his school peers insisted he was.

Gwaine and Merlin's relationship survives their massive argument on Friday night, although neither knows precisely how. They still go out, laugh, goof around and fuck on Saturday and Wednesday night, but neither has said I love you since Friday. It’s now Thursday, Valentine’s Day, and they haven’t made plans, haven’t discussed the novelty day at all. It feels like they’re heading for a break up and it won’t be due to Gwaine’s old behaviours. Merlin doesn’t want to break it off for reasons that don’t involve Gwen and Arthur. Almost a week after that kiss they don’t appear to be a couple, neither do Gwen and Lancelot. The trio seem to exist in personalised bubbles of loneliness when Merlin sees them together for lunch.

Gwen hasn’t mentioned Arthur attending Merlin's grad and this worries him. How did Arthur explain it to her? Why hasn’t he told Merlin she knows? Should Merlin tell Arthur he knows Gwen knows?

Should Merlin tell Arthur how he has never truly left Merlin's thoughts?

No. The Arthur-Gwen-Lancelot triangle doesn’t need a Merlin tangent extending from point Arthur. Bad analogy Merlin, very bad. His mind flits from Gwaine to electron motion to lab shifts to Arthur to Gwen to Lancelot to Gwaine to Merlin to resistance back to Arthur to parallel circuits Aaaarrrrrgh! He’s not going to get through these chapter activities. The computer lab’s closed for the night so he can’t post his finished Arthur Dent/Zaphod Beeblebrox fan-fic and lacks the inspiration to work on his Van Helsing/Carl porn fic. He needs to have sex with Gwaine the way it used to be, seductive and intimate. Merlin leaves his room and nervously calls Gwaine from one of the dormitory phones. His mobile’s out of credit on top of everything else.

“I’ll get him for you,” Lancelot says the moment Merlin says hello.

“Want to meet somewhere? Pretend we didn’t arrange to hook up and try to pick each other up?” Merlin asks and then feels like an idiot.

“Sounds great. Name the place, the hour and tell me what you’ll be wearing.” Gwaine is enthusiastic and Merlin feels hopeful for the first time in days.

“Wear your Pinocchio shirt,” Merlin suggests as they’re about to hang up.

“Love you!” Gwaine sounds like he’s grinning.

“You too.” Merlin hopes it doesn’t turn out to be a lie as he returns to his room to change.

LabRats is packed for a weekend, let alone a Thursday evening and after spending eighty minutes searching for Gwaine Merlin thinks this is the most stupid idea he’s had, equal with hiring Boy For sale at any rate.

“Ah – it is Valentine’s Day Merlin, big student union fundraiser,” Nimueh says condescendingly as she opens his ready-mixed scotch and cola. “Which begs the question, why is your foxy boyfriend flirting it up with Lu by the dartboard?”

Either Gwaine thinks Merlin didn’t show or he’s been avoiding him to hit on Lady Peroxide. Merlin passes across his money without looking up from his drink. “Thanks.” Should he bother interrupting? Is Gwaine play-acting? This could either be fun or effluent. Seeing as the evening started off as effluent it can only maintain or improve its status. Righto, here we go.

“Is this lady bothering you?” Merlin asks Gwaine.

“We’re right thanks,” Lu smirks and drapes over one side of Gwaine.

“My mistake. I think I see my future lover over there.” Merlin plays it to the hilt since there may be nothing to lose, pointing to a dashing older male arguing with another. It could be a lovers’ spat or a typical scuffle over a ruined shot. “If you’ll excuse me.” Merlin steps away and a masculine hand grasps his inner elbow.

“Now that you mention it, I do seem to be a beacon for trouble. Would you mind sticking around? I’ll happily shout you a refill and a packet of crisps, although personally, I prefer nuts.”

Lu swears before tottering off in her Fuck-Me-Boots.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Merlin says with a smile and Gwaine grins. “I’m Merlin by the way.” He extends his hand.

“Gwaine.” He leans in to whisper conspiratorially beside Merlin's ear. “I shouldn’t be in here. I’m a sporty through and through.”

Merlin takes his time checking him out. “Hmm, that statement may require verification.”

They flirt, drink and dance like lunatics around the pool table as they play appallingly.

“How did you miss that?” Merlin asks with a laugh.

“I’m more adept at sinking cues than balls.”

“Is that so?”

“You have no idea.” This is the predatory side of Gwaine previously hidden from Merlin.

“Show me.” He’s willing prey.

They take the courtesy shuttle to Merlin's dorm, French kissing and feeling around inside each other’s shirts on the way. They kiss, fondle, murmur and roll on Merlin's bed. Undressing in silence allows them to hear a brief feminine squeal followed by masculine and feminine chortles settling into murmurs from Gwen’s room.

Gwaine and Merlin stare at each other before scooching to press an ear against the dividing wall.

“Unholy fuck!” Merlin whispers to Gwaine in response to the chorus of pleasure from next door. They grin at each other and start kissing slowly, teasingly with tiny chuckles and languishing ‘mm’s of their own. Gwaine has fingered Merlin before, usually while straddling him with an arse full of cock. Tonight is different because they’re swapping roles. Gwaine is long, wide and round, entering Merlin for the first time to the sound of Gwen’s stifled orgasm. He hopes the neighbouring fornicators don’t hear his sharp intake of breath.

“Isn’t this better?” Gwaine asks cockily as begins moving in and out. “Good isn’t it? See why I let you fuck,” he flips his hips with a snap and Merlin sounds out reflexively, “me so hard?”

“Uh-oohm,” Merlin agrees with a nod. It’s more than good once he adjusts the angle of his legs against Gwaine’s shoulders then reaches behind him to push against the wall with one hand and roll his pelvis. Knowing what Gwaine is feeling allows Merlin to visualise past and present together, it’s like he’s fucking and being fucked at the same time, especially when Gwaine's hot hand joins his on his rigid cock.

“Oh fuck yeah, fuck yeah, this is what I’ve been waiting for.” Gwaine maintains eye contact, driving his quietly murmured words into Merlin as deep as his cock. Merlin comes quickly. Moments later Gwen and her partner climax together, chortle, one hisses ‘shh’ at the other just before Gwaine fills Merlin with a low, triumphant noise.

“Oh my god,” Gwen exclaims with the same tone of surprise Merlin used ‘unholy fuck’ earlier. All four of them giggle, chuckle and murmur in a medley of embarrassed merriment.

“Who do you think it is?” Gwaine asks with his lips against Merlin's shoulder as they lay in a naked, fulfilled huddle.

“Lancelot,” Merlin replies in a confident hush.

“That’s what I reckon.” Gwaine smiles back. Merlin kisses him on the lips and makes himself more comfortable. “Poor Arthur,” Gwaine adds with a forlorn, masculine sigh.

Merlin echoes the sentiment while selfishly wishing he could be Arthur’s first – potentially only – lover. He knows it can never be and so tells Gwaine he loves him.

“Love you too. Tonight was perfect Merlin.”

“Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?”

Their goodnight kiss is warm and wonderful, representative of the best of their relationship. This is why Merlin wants it to last.

#### 30\. I Touch Myself

Merlin dreams…

…he watches Gwen riding Arthur the way Gwaine rides Merlin – without the fingers in the arse bit. She changes position, prostrating herself along his body then kissing and rolling them over. As they roll her partner is revealed to be Lancelot. Four fingers lightly caress Merlin's neck, playing a seductive melody on the hormonal xylophone as an arm wends its way across his abdomen. ‘Merlin?’ Arthur’s lips tickle the corner of Merlin's jaw beneath his ear as he asks permission. Merlin tilts his head back with a ‘yes’ and clasps Arthur’s head against his shoulder. Arthur kisses his neck, Merlin kisses his lips and they…  
Unholy shitting fuck!

Merlin hastens out of bed, dragging the sheet off Gwaine to cover his nudity for this mad dash to the loos. He has his most vigorous wank to date in the nearest cubicle, desperate to erase the imagery and remove all evidence of his somnolent infidelity as quickly as possible. The main door closes as he leaves his booth of shame.

“Everything alright?” Gwaine has squeezed his muscular legs into the fleecy pants Merlin sleeps in.

“Felt like I was going to vomit,” which isn’t far from the truth. “Gwaine?” Merlin doesn’t know what to say next. Actually, he does know what: You deserve more than this. He simply lacks the balls to form the words. Gwaine waits expectantly. “Stay, please.” I’ll make this right, somehow.

They return to bed with an arm around each other and sleep without being disturbed by further dreams.

#### 31\. Ride On

Gwaine stoops to tagging along for a cup of dining hall sludge instead of taking Merlin home for coffee in the morning, intending to grill Gwen about her nocturnal guest or, better yet, personally patting Lancelot on the back.

“You’re a nutter,” Merlin says with dimples of contentment and Gwaine winks back with his own dimpled smile.

This morning is a new beginning for them. There’s no need to discuss it, they just know. They share a single breakfast at an outside table because Gwaine doesn’t have a dining hall pass. It’s cold so Merlin sits between Gwaine’s legs on the bench to share body heat. Gwaine kisses his neck. Merlin holds Gwaine’s hand, brings it to his lips and kisses the cold fingertips. This is how it used to be, how it should remain.

Gwen races in to grab something to eat with no time to chat or she’ll be late for her nine o’clock science and technology lecture. “I can’t believe I slept in so late,” she explains hurriedly on her way in with bright eyes and a charming flush of embarrassment to her complexion. There’s nary a sign of her bed pal.

“I believe Gwen had a lie in this morning but not that she spent that time asleep,” Gwaine says with a smirk and Merlin chuckles.

“Lord I hope he’s not making us build ice-cream stick bridges again,” she prattles as she races out with a handful of cold toast. “Um last night, let’s all agree to say nothing and spare each other the humiliation, yes?”

Merlin and Gwaine nod solemnly to Gwen then grin at each other the moment her back is turned. Gwaine doesn’t start until ten, Merlin later still, so they decide to walk to Gwaine’s to share a quick rather than naughty shower. Unfortunately one of Gwaine’s housemates is already using the bathroom when they arrive.

“Back to the dorm showers for me then,” Merlin concedes.

“I won’t join you.” Gwaine kisses him goodbye at the door.

This isn’t a rejection. They haven’t used the dorm showers together since Olaf and his cohort threatened them. Merlin always listens and peers cautiously before leaving the relative safety of his cubicle although the negative responses to him and Gwaine have steadily dwindled. He lets his troubles gurgle down the drain with suds and residue from the previous day. Dreams don’t mean anything. He has no control over things like that. His waking words and actions shape his life and he is determined to be happy as he dresses and returns to his cell. Merlin takes out his timetable and works out a plan to balance study with social life. Looking over his student diary he realises he has a lot more catching up to do with exams only weeks away. Better save social time for lunch breaks and one night out per week.

Merlin spends the majority of this Friday morning in the library as he’d intended to from week one, glossing over the fact that this is the first time he’s actually done so rather than sleep in or watch crap telly with Gwaine before heading home for a nap. He whizzes through the biology readings and takes a break to write a bit of fluffy fan-fic before delving into the physics activities that bamboozled him last night. Merlin remains optimistic. His mind is clear and he understands what is required in each task. He also comes up with an idea that should eliminate one factor putting strain on his relationship with Gwaine.

Last night’s St Valentine’s sex was great, no doubt, but both partners prefer the role of top. If they can agree to regularly reverse roles then hopefully Gwaine won’t get that shadow of shame falling across his features as though he’s been letting Merlin take advantage of him. Merlin isn’t embarrassed about playing keeper instead of striker but he doesn’t want to be stuck in the nets for every match. Letting Gwaine score some goals can only extend the playing season. Oh god, he’s thinking in sports references now! Quick, think geek!

When they break up – if, if! – If they break up it won’t be so Gwaine can undertake a quest for another virgin. It will be because Merlin can’t stop incidental thoughts of Arthur sneaking up on him. He’s going to try though. Merlin is going to pass his first semester, retain his full scholarship, love his boyfriend, and at Easter his mother will welcome home a happier Merlin than the one she farewelled five and a half months ago.

His smile and attitude are so bright that even the tedious statistics tutor can’t dim them.

#### 32\. Fat Bottomed Girls

Had Gwen and Merlin wanted to discuss hearing each other having sex through the dormitory walls they wouldn’t be able to, because the honey on pumpernickel sandwich is excited over the arrival of someone named Elena later that afternoon.

“Who’s Elena?” Merlin asks.

“Elena was supposed to be the future Mrs Arthur Pendragon,” Gwaine explains.

“According to the social pages when we were fifteen. We decided against it,” Arthur continues.

“In case Uther was her father too,” Lancelot concludes.

“And didn’t Uther get snotty when they told him that!” Gwaine guffaws.

Arthur imitates his father with a pomposity that fits him too well. “Elena’s parents are among my closest friends…”

Gwaine assumes the role of Arthur. “As were Morgana’s parents. That didn’t precisely stop you impregnating my mother’s sister, did it Father? Oh, and you needn’t worry about me fooling around with servants of similar age …”

Arthur returns to his usual self. “The potential for accidental incest was so rife I wore stainless steel underpants.”

“With his name stamped inside the waistband,” Lancelot adds seriously but with merry eyes.

“Didn’t want to lose those at camp and have a teacher hold them up at the front of the bus.”

Gwen and Merlin laugh. Gwen wipes a tear from one eye. Arthur winks at her and she’s off again. Merlin ends up laughing at her laughter.

“Elena’s popping over the house tonight, hoping to meet you both. Would you mind?” Arthur asks.

Gwen looks unsure. She hasn’t been paying more attention to either Lancelot or Arthur and neither of them pays her more heed than usual. Perhaps Gwen didn’t want to cause friction between them and brought some other fellow home. The unprecedented appearance of this woman must feel like the introduction of a rival into her already complicated life. Merlin thinks it’s great that there’ll be another female to even out numbers. With any luck Elena and Gwen will pair off with Arthur and Lancelot without a squabble and Merlin can get on with devoting his heart to Gwaine. That’ll be no problem at all once Arthur’s safely hooked up with someone, none at all. He makes up Gwen’s mind for her.

“What time do you want us to drop round?” Merlin asks with honest enthusiasm.

Arrangements are made. He and Gwen are regaled with Elena-based anecdotes for the remainder of lunch. Gwen becomes increasingly subdued as lunch progresses and Merlin is surprised when she sits with him and Gwaine for their last tutorial for the week.

“I don’t think I’ll go tonight,” she says toward the lesson’s end.

“Why not? The three of us email Elena non-stop about how lucky we were to meet two wonderful people that we haven’t driven away with our insanity. She believes you are both the product of group hallucinations caused by lead-based paint.”

Merlin chuckles at Gwaine. “Elena sounds like the female midpoint between you and Arthur.” He’s looking forward to meeting her.

“If you sounded that keen to meet a male friend of mine I’d be worried,” Gwaine quips.

If Gwen was in her usual spot Merlin could tell Gwaine where Elena fits into his plan for unanimous happy endings: Lancelot + Gwen; Arthur + Elena; Merlin + Gwaine. He can’t contain his ‘I’ve got it all figured out’ smile and Gwaine notices.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking Merlin?”

“I think I am Gwaine.”

“You two make me jealous and nauseous all at the same time,” Gwen says brightly.

“So you’ll come over tonight to stop us being disgustingly cute?” Gwaine asks.

“Oh alright,” Gwen yields with a long-suffering groan.

Merlin and Gwaine cheer, Gwen rolls her eyes.

Gwen and Merlin walk together to the house, exchanging ‘wtf?’ expressions when they hear three male and one female boisterously sing: “We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine, yellow submarine. We all live…!”

“I’m afraid to knock now,” Gwen admits with a chortle. Merlin agrees with a silent grin and knocks anyway.

Lancelot welcomes them in with polite enquiries about their walk, helps Gwen out of her jacket and they enter the main room towards the end of Elena’s story. All Merlin can see at first is blond hair looped in a big, elegantly knotted braid with a few stray wisps and energetic gestures.

“…on his face when I jet ski past his arrogant arse and cartwheel onto the dock was worth a Tiffany’s necklace with matching bracelet,” Elena boasts. There’s nothing undersized, intimidating, pampered or bashful about this heiress.

“You did not!” Gwaine declares.

“Not the cartwheel, no. But the rest is positively true.”

Arthur laughs a sharp but genuine “B’ha!” and Elena shines. Merlin can tell that Gwen’s decided to hate her already.

“They’re equally fair, similar pouty lips – could be siblings…” Merlin observes drily and Gwen surrenders to a smile.

“Thank you Merlin.” Arthur reprimands him and Elena turns to great them with radiant smile, warm brown eyes and a politely extended hand. Elena and Gwen look each other over. It’s like watching a nature documentary where the dominant male examines his competitor for weaknesses.

“So nice to finally meet you Merlin and Guinevere, or do you prefer Gwen? Lord above, you boys weren’t exaggerating about her! Send her home Arthur!” Elena waves a dismissive hand but her expression remains as warm as a freshly baked cake. Gwen’s dimples respond of their own accord.

“Not on your life.” Arthur smiles too.

“Shan’t bother chatting you up, Merlin. My inbox has been bombarded with reminders that you’re Gay and Gwaine’s. Yahoo goes on about you two as much as Hotmail does.”

“I…beg your pardon?” Merlin asks. He sits along the back of the couch behind Gwaine and they lean against each other.

“Long, story,” Arthur replies.

“We’ve got time,” everyone else says. Gwen and Elena smile like co-conspirators and all shadows of impending rivalry disappear.

“Boring story,” Arthur amends.

Lancelot starts telling it anyway. “In an effort to avoid Uther’s internet sniffers screening their emails I opened three in my name, exactly the same name but with three different servers.”

“That’s how I can tell them apart.” Elena points to Gwaine, “Hotmail,” Lancelot, “Google.”

Gwen laughs at Arthur. “Yahoo?”

“Suits him, don’t you think?” Elena asks. “Personally, I feel Lancelot should be Hotmail.”

“Gwaine’s my Hotmail.” Merlin says, knowing it’s cheesy and predictable but Gwaine grins anyway. Merlin leans down to kiss him.

“Shall I summon the limo and we’ll be off, or would you rather wait for a lull in the conversation?” Elena asks the room in general.

“No-one mentioned going out.” Gwen looks at her attire. Merlin does the same. Neither ensemble measures up to anyone else in the room. He agrees when she adds “We’d best be off then.”

“Oh no, please come! The limo easily seats more than five and we can’t all squish into Arthur’s lemon. I wasn’t bringing the tour bus across the Channel.”

“Elena owns a resort in Greece,” Gwaine explains.

“And remains insulted that none of these boys spent more than three days of gap there,” she retorts pointedly. “We’re only doing a burger run followed by cinema, nothing swish.”

Lancelot takes Gwen’s hands and lifts them so he can properly look her over. “Stunning,” he assures her. Gwen’s return smile makes her complexion glow softly and she primps her hair once he turns away. Arthur doesn’t appear concerned by this tender moment, prompting Merlin and Gwaine to exchange brief smirks of ‘aha – ‘twas Lancelot!’

“Game on!” Elena claps her hands together once. The company grab everything necessary to keep warm outside. Elena is very much a glamorous tomboy and Gwen is buoyed by her presence rather than intimidated by the opulence of the limousine. Gwaine helps Merlin to a cache of nibbles and complains jovially about the otherwise empty bar.

There is a lot of laughter and genuine interest as discussions centre around random topics. Alliances change as quickly as they form with everyone giving and receiving equal amounts of flak. The only grumbling revolves around the lack of anything decent showing at the cinema.

“Do you still have that karaoke machine in the limo?” Gwaine asks Elena hopefully as he offers Merlin the last of his chips.

“You goose … actually, I think so.”

They take turns making fools of themselves in pairs, groups and as individuals as Elena’s driver takes them around town. Elena opens a window to serenade a potential pick up.

“Ooh, rejected!” Arthur nudges her bottom with a foot.

“Let’s see how you do lonely boy.” She tosses him the microphone.

“He’s not my type.”

“Denial!” Gwaine and Elena chorus. Merlin silently agrees.

“Don’t start this debate again,” Lancelot groans.

Gwen and Arthur lock eyes. Gwen looks away first.

“I said he’s not my type, not that males in general aren’t.”

“Holy shit.” Merlin is unsure who says it, it’s uttered so softly. Everyone looks at Gwen.

“What?” she calmly asks without avoiding anyone’s eye.

“You, he, kiss, you …” It’s like a medley relay between Gwaine, Lancelot, Elena and Merlin.

“Yes, and?” Gwen retains her dignity with this response.

“Guinevere and I came to the mutual decision that we aren’t compatible.”

“Which we already knew, it was more confirmation really.”

“Entirely spontaneous and will never happen again,” Arthur assures Lancelot. “Somebody please change the subject.”

Elena does so. “When are you going to give up this teacher nonsense Gwaine, and come tend my bar?”

“Are you sure this isn’t the same topic?” Merlin teases without looking at Arthur or Gwen. Elena’s rich laugh fills the vehicle.

“I like him! What a night.” She pats Arthur’s knee familiarly. “Don’t worry dear, it’s not too late.”

“Whatever you’re inferring Elena, don’t,” Arthur commands.

“One truth a day keeps the guilt worms at bay?” Elena retorts.

“Lancelot,” Arthur addresses him directly. “We didn’t set out to…”

“Are you going to try all Gwaine’s excuses to make me forgive you?” Lancelot speaks softly but his words are pointed.

“It wasn’t like that, really. Extenuating circumstances,” Gwen offers sincerely.

Lancelot’s carefully controlled anger is not aimed at Gwen. “You used her…?”

“Let them explain,” Gwaine says simply. Merlin knows his boyfriend appreciates the importance of a second chance. Instinct tells him that Gwen and Arthur are being honest when they would have preferred to keep something quiet.

Elena subtly touches the intercom and tells Jillian to return to the university. “Jillian can drop you three at the house. Gwaine, Merlin and I can continue on…”

“No, it’s alright,” Arthur insists. “This will save Lancelot the trouble of resisting Gwaine’s efforts to persuade it out of him. Guinevere, as it is your honour being brought into question…”

Lancelot appears chagrined at implying Gwen was an easy pick up. She starts regardless. “I have a hefty psychology assessment, one of the main requirements being to interview an anonymous subject in regards to which childhood and adolescent events were influential in shaping the adult. Being a nosy parker, I took the opportunity to pick Arthur’s brain. Lancelot’s too normal to make the paper interesting.”

“You’re going to refer to me as ‘Yahoo’ in that now, aren’t you?” Arthur laments.

“There’s an idea,” Gwen teases.

“As you are all aware, Guinevere possesses inhuman powers of persuasion.”

“A little non-financial blackmail secured my victim – subject, I meant subject.” Gwen grimaces and her hands assume the palms-out defensive position. Merlin, Gwaine and Elena grin, Arthur frowns and Lancelot’s expression would be well suited to a judge of the High Court.

“I gave her more information than I intended. It’s as bad as talking to Merlin – truth just comes out. You’re left thinking ‘what the hell did I say that for?’ and yet can never entirely regret spilling some beans.”

Gwaine gives Merlin's hand an affectionate squeeze, and winks. Merlin settles on quickie eye sex for a reply because he doesn’t want to interrupt Gwen and Arthur.

“That level of communication made blurry lines even fuzzier, following so soon after that confusing kiss.”

“Guinevere’s a beautiful person with an irresistibly humorous and soothing nature.”

“Arthur’s not exactly hideous and it went from friendship.”

“To alcohol aided ‘could this be something?’ to…”

“The pair of us faking it to preserve each other’s dignity, basically.”

“It seemed like the blink of an eye took us to a place where we could only go forward in order to get back to where we should be.”

“If these two hadn’t been going at it next door…” Gwen gestures to Gwaine and Merlin.

“Stop right there Guinevere, before we all die of humiliation. Moral of the story, Lancelot: It took that mistake for Gwen to understand how deeply she loves you and that her most intimate moments belong to you. She relentlessly tortured me by making us talk things over in the morning. It wouldn’t be worth it if that same mistake didn’t prove that regardless of her delightful dimples and entrancing personality, I will never be attracted to Guinevere as more than a friend because she isn’t a man.”

“I will never love Arthur as more than a friend – because he isn’t you.” Gwen’s posture shifts minutely and her fingers fidget nervously but her gaze remains steady: This is how it happened and this is who I am, take it or leave it.

Merlin is in awe of her courage in this situation and understands how Arthur became confused. Gwen is the kind of character Arthur admires most. Plus she’s female like his father’s job requires Arthur’s partners to be. Merlin reminds himself to send a letter of grateful praise to his loving Mum before semester ends.

Gwen tries once more to get through to Lancelot. “Have you never been so confused that you didn’t know which path to take until after you travelled in the wrong direction? I got lost, we both did, but we found our way back and will never go there again. That’s the only reason we kept it hush. Please, forgive us.” Gwen touches Lancelot’s hand and he doesn’t pull away. Their eyes say many things that only they can hear.

“I want to. I can see how this happened and why. You’re both…”

“Idiots,” Arthur suggests.

“Hopeless romantics,” Gwaine corrects.

“Desperate to shag someone you didn’t think was interested, so settled for each other?” Elena throws in.

“Wonderful people who’d give your entire heart to your friends given the opportunity, clever enough to know you stuffed up, and fed up with inventing lies to cover your arse when you know it’ll only make things worse in the long run,” Merlin says.

“I’m changing mine to what Merlin said,” Elena insists with wide-eyed respect. “What are you doing with Gwaine again?”

“Let them enjoy their romance Elena. They deserve it. Hang around long enough and you’ll see how they bring out the best in each other.” Arthur’s reprimand earns Gwen’s scorn.

“Hardly!” she scoffs.

“Can’t you shut her up by kissing her or something, Lancelot?” Arthur counters. “They found their equilibrium – like I said they would…”

“Sorry Arthur,” Gwaine interrupts, “but I have to agree with the interfering female on this one. I understand Merlin bringing out the best in me…”

“If you understood, you wouldn’t doubt it. Your boyfriend only brings out the best in people who appreciate him. In everyone else he brings out the worst, like some fairground personality test.”

“The ones where you put in a coin, place your hand on the metal plate and coloured lights tell you if you’re a tosser or not?” Elena asks seriously. Arthur nods. “By the way Merlin lights up when he smiles at you Gwaine, your result is Quality Bloke. Arthur is Smug Git with Lovely Bum – alright, that one’s my personal opinion.”

Merlin laughs. Gwaine insists Merlin's the one with the lovely bum. Lancelot and Arthur blame Elena for getting him started. Merlin kisses Gwaine to silence him. Gwen kisses Lancelot.

“Don’t even think about it Elena,” Arthur warns and her rich laughs fills the car.

#### 33\. Freedom

Merlin expects the knowledge that Arthur is gay to keep him up all night and is pleasantly proven wrong. He wakes up beside Gwaine as happy as he fell asleep. It’s as though Arthur’s insistence that Merlin and Gwaine be permitted to enjoy their romance has set them free.

‘We deserve this,’ he thinks with a small smile as he kisses Gwaine good morning. “I love you right now,” Merlin says brightly.

Gwaine’s response is equally candid. The pressure is off. They can love moment by moment again.

Their kiss deepens and they explore each other. Mouths, hands and seductive movements create a messy climax. Gwaine comes on Merlin's neck, Merlin on Gwaine’s chest. Months after the first time, Merlin still relishes the sight of Gwaine’s cum spurting and oozing, revels in the sensations caused by Gwaine sucking cum from his skin, finds Gwaine delightfully sexy.

“So you haven’t tired of me yet?” He moans smugly as Gwaine sucks his satisfied balls. Gwaine’s reply is to lick Merlin's arse and leave a love bite on his inner thigh.

They share the top sheet off Gwaine’s bed in order to walk to the bathroom for a naughty shower. The housemates always know to knock if the door’s closed because it doesn’t have a lock. Merlin is hard before they shed the sheet so Gwaine doesn’t bother turning the tap on yet.

‘My place you top, your place I top,’ is the bottom rule established to maintain this new balance in their relationship. Gwaine holds the sides of the hand basin with both hands as Merlin licks up and down his back directly along his spine before licking and fingering him open. A condom and lube are dropped on the floor beside Merlin's knee. Such supplies are kept in the mirrored cupboard for occasions like this. They don’t talk due to the echo, communicating through the mirror instead as Merlin settles inside Gwaine before steadily fucking him. Eyes locked on their partner’s face, the only noise produced is the soft thud of naked bodies colliding and excited breathing. Merlin's getting close. He stands upright, hands on the back of Gwaine’s neck, not squeezing. His fingertips curl into the ends of Gwaine’s hair and he tugs slightly.

“Gwen, you should knock!” Lancelot’s warning isn’t quick enough. Cold air slaps Merlin across the back.

“Oh-my-god-no, no-god, oh-no,” Gwen says in a tiny voice as her hands cover her eyes. It’s like she’s frozen to the spot.

Lancelot drags her by the elbow as Arthur reaches in to close the door. “Um, carry on,” he says to Gwaine and Merlin's startled reflections while pulling the door to. He suggests to Lancelot that they should take Gwen to buy a lock for the bathroom door right now and perhaps have breakfast with Elena, wherever she’s staying.

“Well, that’s now the most embarrassing moment of my life,” Merlin admits.

“Hope you’re done, because there’s no way I can keep going.”

“There’s no real recovery from that, is there?” Merlin's cock has called quits on this fun fair and is already deflating the jumpy castle.

“Not that I can see,” Gwaine concedes and then chortles as they turn on the shower taps, “although we’ll probably recover sooner than Gwen.”

#### 34\. It’s So Easy

This can’t be right.

Merlin's life cannot be so simple.

His relationship with Gwaine is comfortable at worst, enjoyable at best, and rapidly approaching the six month mark. Thoughts of Arthur continue to intrude but nothing sharp enough to burst Merlin’s bubbles of hopeful happiness. He’s content being counted as one of the house boys.

“Does this mean you’ll start walking around naked again?” Gwaine asks Arthur one evening while Merlin's there.

“Please no,” Gwen despairs. Lancelot rubs her back soothingly.

“Are you sure you two are on?” Gwaine asks them. “There are no goo-goo eyes or wall-shaking …”

“That’s because they’re two mature adults, not a rake and his cock-struck fledgling,” Arthur points out.

“You wait,” Gwaine promises and sits back smugly in his chair, hands in his pockets. “You’ll get yours Pendragon.”

“Not before I’m fifty I won’t. Father should come to terms with the fact I’m gay by then.”

“Have you told him yet?” Merlin asks.

“No. That kind of news requires a face-to-face confrontation.”

“You could wait until you’re twenty one and your mother’s estate…” Gwaine begins.

Arthur cuts him off. “I could also follow my mother’s footsteps into the Bolshoi Ballet but, meh.”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,” says Gwaine.

“You’d know.”

“How do you live like this?” Gwen asks of Lancelot.

“Earphones,” he replies drily.

Gwaine asks Merlin to keep a surreptitious eye out for a guy to lure Arthur further into the open. He seems happy enough on his own. Gwaine reckons that’s bullshit as they share their usual Wednesday night chips and gravy from a tiny takeaway.

“How can he be with the four of us paired off in front of him? Poor guy can’t turn around without seeing one half of a couple.” Gwaine shakes his head sympathetically and double dips a chip.

Merlin knows how that one goes. Still… “Perhaps Arthur’s happy enough knowing what he wants for now,” he ponders as he chews. “One less weight chained around his neck, you know? Let him swim about a bit before trying to tie him to someone.”

Gwaine’s smile says ‘I love that about you’. Merlin's says ‘sometimes simply looking at you is enough to make me horny’ and they go home to Merlin's so Gwaine can fuck him breathless.

Merlin's classes aren’t giving him any hassles. He’s caught up and has started exam prep. His mother is happy and healthy at home. He has genuine friends, a satisfactory part time job, an incredibly sexy and deceptively respectful boyfriend, and is esteemed by his classmates.

Something suckful is bound to happen.

#### 35\. The Name of the Game

Slow Sunday morning, quality coffee prepared by glorious Gwaine, cryptic crossword with Arthur, Lancelot and Gwen having a lie in…

“How can there be so much fucking theory in this course? It’s fucking sport for fuck sake!”

Ah, the dulcet tones of Merlin's boyfriend as he revises for his university exams.

“Ignore it and it’ll go away,” Arthur mumbles then pushes the newspaper across to Merlin. “Take over captain.”

“You cocked up twelve across… eight down… how in pity’s name did you come up with this?” Merlin points at twenty seven across. “Bubble bum?”

“Why are you helping that git with a stupid puzzle instead of preventing my brain from exploding?” Gwaine complains loudly and follows up with a mutter. “Neglectful boyfriend, dump your arse.”

“Merlin knows as much about sport as you do about vectors and particle motion.”

“This is true. Think I’ll keep fucking your arse instead – Merlin's arse. Yours does nothing for me anymore I’m afraid, Arthur.”

“Sure I’ll survive. Go for a run or something. Your brain blockage is clearly contagious.” Arthur looks sideways at the crossword. “That’s supposed to be bubble gum. Reading the clue might have given you a clue.”

“Fancy, a clue from a clue,” Merlin says with fake astonishment.

“Good god, you’re right!” Gwaine declares. “If this brainlessness spreads we’ll all be Elena by lunch time. To save my beloved brethren – and Arthur – I shall away. I may be some time.”

“Dickhead,” Merlin mutters before munching on a marmalade smothered breakfast muffin.

“You love me,” Gwaine boasts. Merlin wrinkles his nose and makes the tilting hand motion to mean ‘meh’ before grinning and kissing Gwaine goodbye.

“Holy shit, we’re alone,” Merlin observes a few minutes later.

“Your fellow fornicators are down the hall.”

“Well, yeah, but just you and me in the same room with no-one else? This hasn’t happened since Christmas.”

Arthur stares flatly at Merlin. It’s rather intimidating. “If you dare go all ‘let’s chat about things better left unsaid’ I will take Guinevere’s straightener to your pubic hair.” Arthur’s nostrils flare slightly and his eyebrows emphasise the point.

“Let’s just sit here in silence then, shall we?”

They do, for a bit.

“Why didn’t you or Gwen tell me she found out about…?” Merlin starts to ask.

“Because she knows how to keep her mouth shut, unlike you. If you knew she knew you’d want to natter away about it to her. Need I remind you I’ve been in Guinevere’s room? I know the location of all her feminine torture implements.”

Merlin tries companionable silence again and decides it isn’t very companionable. “Did you have your secret police shut the web page down or remove the offending…?”

“That would draw Father’s attention to it, which had to be avoided at all costs. It will hardly be a surprise when I say ‘Hello Father, I’m a homo and you can’t blame Gwaine’ if he sees us snogging on the internet. Hang on – if Guinevere didn’t talk to you about that which you and I agreed not to talk about, how do you know she knows?”

Merlin flips his open-car-door ears with his index fingers while asking a question of his own and ignoring the fact that his imagination is filing away this image of perplexed Arthur for future fantasy fun time. “There isn’t really, us, on there, snogging?” So he is more attempting to ask a question. Arthur still catches the drift of it and now looks suspicious rather than perplexed.

“You haven’t seen it?”

“Why would I? Hated that bloody school, full of troglodytes and slags,” he trails off. “Have you?”

“Why would I? Not my school full of snobs and shitheads.”

“So you just took Gwen’s word for it?”

“I’m the pathological liar of our little social network, remember?”

“Can I borrow your laptop?”

“It’s on the charger.”

“You’re a liar.”

“Not this time. You really are crap at spotting the bull among the cows.”

“You’re so adept at spinning the stuff it’s safest to presume they’re all bulls.”

Arthur looks at him. Merlin expects to burst into flames, turn to stone, or grow an extra limb from his nose. Lancelot, Gwaine, Elena and Gwen say things like that to Arthur and he doesn’t give any of them that look. What Arthur says next throws Merlin completely off track.

“What are you like at theatre sports?”

“A-err-what?”

“Performing improvisations based on given prompts and making a dick of yourself in front of an audience.”

“Sounds humiliating and – fun,” Merlin admits. He knows what it is. Gwen’s been trying to get him to come along all semester. He didn’t expect the question, that’s all.

“I believe that with my stage presence and your clever tongue we can defeat Arts and Law in the Unions challenge on Wednesday.”

“Gwen says you and Lancelot win the Chalkie round every month.”

“Winning against these teams isn’t enough. The two have alternated between first and runner up since the challenge began five years ago. We need to annihilate them. You’re the ultimate secret weapon.”

“Um, what makes you think I can help you win?”

“That witch Sophia’s expression after our ‘how we met’ routine.”

“You forget to delete my number yet you remember Sophia…”

“Back already Gwaine?” Arthur asks cheerily over Merlin's shoulder. Merlin whips around. Arthur was talking to air.

“You’re a shit.”

“You’re indiscreet.”

“How – you started it!”

“I knew we were alone. Ask Gwaine if you can play when he gets back.”

“He’s not my wife, husband, I don’t need his permission.”

“Tell him then.”

“Arse.”

“Spit… a brick, I’m supposed to be somewhere. Pass on my apologies to the fornicators. No need, there’s one, morning Guinevere. Goodbye Guinevere.” Arthur hurries out before Merlin can figure out the source of the fuss.

“Do I stink?” Gwen asks with a curious frown.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Good.” She sits down with a smile. “Where’s Gwaine?”

“Running off some pre-exam stress. Where’s yours?”

“Triathlon training, according to the note he left on the pillow. I assume he left it on a pillow and didn’t stick it directly to my face, which is where I found it.”

“Oh. Coffee?”

“Tea please. I can’t abide coffee now unless Gwaine makes it.”

“One of his many talents.”

“Oh-my-god-god-no,” Gwen whimpers and scrunches her fists over tightly closed eyes. “Why won’t that image leave my brain? I’m tempted to scrub my eye sockets with a toothbrush to get rid of it.”

“Thanks Gwen, my nuts have taken a trip north due to that subtle reminder.”

“You’re making it worse!”

Merlin laughs at her and the kettle boils.

“How soon will Gwaine be back?” Gwen asks hesitantly.

“Why? Please don’t tell me you’re pregnant but aren’t sure who the father is…”

Gwen’s eyes are like an aerial view of dark chocolate buttons floating on two glasses of milk.

“It was only supposed to be a joke.” He wouldn’t have sounded so flippant if…

“Well, that one nearly scared the life out of me. Try something a little less noir next time, alright?” Gwen shivers and places her hands against the hot tea cup. “We don’t need any more snags to tangle us up in undercurrents of Arthur. Lancelot will be kissing him next and then we’ve all had a go…oh shit. I should have known really, that today would be like this. What else can you expect when you wake up to find a post it stuck to your face with sleep drool?”

“You know about that, that’s old news.” Merlin hurriedly sweeps his evening with Arthur aside. “Do you think Lancelot will cause a fuss if I replace him in the theatre sports final?”

“You and Gwaine can’t jump into the final. At least one of the pair has to be a regular participant.”

“Not Gwaine, just me. Arthur asked…”

“Bad idea. Remember how Gwaine reacted when I held Arthur’s hand? And that was on Lancelot’s behalf. Some of those scenarios are highly suggestive and if Gwaine sees Arthur putting phony moves on you – Arthur’s too pretty to die, Merlin.” Gwen stops to sip her tea. “Of course, if you want to break up with Gwaine then by all means, play with Arthur.”

“No, I don’t want to break up with Gwaine. Or play with Arthur, by any means let alone all of them.”

Gwen says nothing. Simply looks at Merlin.

“You know what I mean.”

Gwen’s attitude doesn’t change.

“I’m with Gwaine.”

More nothing from Gwen.

“Stop it.”

“Okay, as long as you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

He is.

Maybe

#### 36\. We Are the Champions

“When were you going to mention this theatre games thing to me, after you’d won?” Gwaine asks over the phone that night.

“I decided not to play.”

“You’d be awesome.”

“Gwen said things can get a little saucy.”

“Which is why you’d be awesome. Der!”

“It wouldn’t feel right being partnered with someone other than you for stuff like that.”

“There isn’t another reason?”

“Gwen was worried you’d punch Arthur’s face in if we were asked to do anything like that. That part doesn’t bother me. Everyone who has ever met him wants to punch him at least once.”

Gwaine laughs.

“Plus it’s on chips and gravy night,” Merlin points out. “That’s enough reason to say no right there. The way you dip your chips is so suggestive I’m getting hard just talking about it.”

Gwaine laughs again at Merlin's phone-sex voice. “Do you want to do this?” he asks seriously.

“It could be fun, sounds like fun. I love Whose Line Is It Anyway?” Merlin admits.

“Then do it.”

“Will you ridicule me and cheer me on as the situation demands?”

“I’m also willing to throw tomatoes should your performance rate below piss-poor.”

“So supportive of my chosen career, thank you dear heart,” is Merlin’s response.

“Arthur’s aggressively competitive at everything. He wouldn’t have asked you to get involved if he didn’t think you’d guarantee his success. On the other hand, if you lose it will all be your fault, not his. On the other foot, you’re a spitfire and won’t take any of his crap, so it’s all win from my perspective.”

“Tell him I’ll do it, but he better make me look good.”

Gwen tells Merlin he’s thick the next day.

“Gwaine talked me into it.”

“This cannot end well Merlin.”

“It’s for pretend, like Teletubbies but without the noo-noo.”

Gwen looks at him for a moment and then walks away without a word.

Merlin and Gwaine have their chips and gravy early on Wednesday, in case some fluke gets Merlin and Arthur through the first round.

“That Law cow gave me crabs senior year,” Gwaine points to a platinum blond with her hair in a bun so tight a television spinster librarian would be envious.

“Oh for crying out loud, you bagged Catrina? She’s nastier than Morgause.” Arthur’s nose wrinkles in disgust.

“Wartier too, if you two have to simulate sex to beat her, you do it.”

“Urgh!”

“Not to worry Merlin, Gwaine dips his dick in Pine-o-clean once a week.”

“I switched to Mr Muscle actually.”

“You two are actually fourteen, aren’t you?” Merlin asks. “You made a wish to be big at a carnival and now you’re stuck looking like grownups.”

Gwaine opens his mouth to reply and Merlin heads for the stage before any more puerile comments emerge.

“That was a bit rude,” Arthur says when he catches up, “walking off on him like that.”

“No, I was abrupt. You pair were being rude—and juvenile.”

“Gwaine put all his effort into seduction and ending relationships before you. This is the first time he’s attempted to maintain one and you treated him like a child. We don’t all hook up with the love of our lives when we’re thirteen and compare everything else to that.”

“We don’t all wait until we’re adults, shag our best friend’s girl then decide we’re Gay either but you don’t see me having a go at you.”

“Fuck off Merlin,” Arthur mutters.

“Beg your pardon?” Merlin asks with mock politeness and Arthur mouths the first two words as they’re ushered onto the makeshift stage with their competitors.

The first game requires players to make up a song one line at a time. Merlin sets out to lose but his brain won’t let him, coming up with acidly funny stuff that fits the lyric added by the player before and provides an opening for the next player in line while heaping shit on Arthur. The Nursing team are first to be booted off. Arthur smiles smugly as they avoid elimination.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you Merlin? Have to be a smartarse.”

Second game involves foam props. Players cannot speak, one word means disqualification. Merlin and Arthur stage a light-sabre/ sword/ anything really fight all over the stage, going so far as to use other players as props as they go. Arthur rolls across the back of one person pretending to be a dog while their partner uses their foam prop to scoop pretend poop. Merlin slides under the ‘dog’ and whacks Arthur in the privates just as he manages to get upright. Arthur squeaks like a cartoon eunuch and wields his foam thing like a machete. Merlin blocks it, gets to his feet and jumps because Arthur swings his weapon low while wrenching Merlin's length of foam from his hand. Time is called.

“You nearly forced me off the stage you arse!” Merlin exclaims angrily.

“You pinged my privates and nearly got us disqualified. These aren’t as gentle on delicate areas as you might think.” He prods Merlin with a corner to prove it.

“Cor, okay. Sorry.”

The adjudicator takes the props. Pooper scooper and pooch are out. The media studies students in the audience boo. Gwaine throws a tomato into the midst of them and laughs when it splatters.

“Your boyfriend,” Arthur says blandly.

Sometimes Merlin wonders why.

Game three is the clichéd one person provides the hands while the other does the talking. The scenario is a family of five at the dinner table. There are condiments, cutlery, crockery and actual food on the table.

“I better be the hands because I’m not eating anything you’d feed me,” Merlin says through the side of his mouth. He gets his wish. The scene plays out like the typical high school talent show version until ‘Brother’ Arthur asks ‘Sister’ Catrina to pass the mustard.

“That’s brown sauce, not mustard. Never mind that’ll do. Give it a little shake and an almighty squeeze…”

Merlin can’t see where he’s pointing the bottle but by the splat and squeal coming from his left the contents hit Catrina.

“Father’s squirted worse than that onto your cleavage.”

Merlin tries not to laugh as Arthur and the ‘Grandfather’ on Catrina’s left offer to help clean it up. Merlin covers a napkin with sauce and slaps it against the side of her face before rubbing it into her hair. Catrina uses her hand to swat Merlin's away.

“That’s for giving Gwaine crabs,” Arthur declares loudly and Merlin loses it. He drops everything and guffaws into Arthur’s back, hands drumming the table and Arthur’s chest because Arthur’s arms have his clamped tight. If he pulls one hand free they’ll be eliminated automatically.

“Are you right there son?” ‘Mother’ asks.

“Rehearsing my drum solo…”

“Time!” the first adjudicator calls. “Law and IT are disqualified for using their own hands.”

“He squirted sauce down my bra and rubbed it in my face!” Catrina protests angrily.

“The Education contestant couldn’t see what he was doing. That’s the point! What are you going to do? Sue?”

The audience laughs with the adjudicator. Education, Arts and Agriculture move straight onto the second last round – mime.

Merlin begins to see why Gwen insisted Arthur could shovel his opponents into the clay on his own. He guesses Agriculture’s ‘A child protection spokesperson wants Noddy removed from television as she believes Big Ears is a paedophile’ after three gestures and a lewd expression. As a result, Arthur and Merlin have to communicate ‘the US military devised a plan to parachute bears into Afghanistan to search caves for Osama Bin Laden’. Merlin doesn’t understand how the Aggie’s get this one at all. He spends half their mime time laughing at Arthur’s impression of a parachuting bear. He laughs harder once Arthur tells him these things all come from newspaper articles.

“Is the US Minister of Defence seven? Not even Gwaine would come up with something like bear paratroopers!”

“Which takes Agriculture and…Education through to the last round,” the adjudicator announces.

“Well done Merlin, don’t care if we lose now.”

“I do!”

Arthur does this facial thing that Merlin's only seen him do once before, when ‘Oliver’ spouted that utter bollocks about Merlin's dimples and his smile. It affects him the same way now.

Merlin looks into the audience to break the spell. “Where’s Gwaine?”

“He probably got thrown out after the tomato thing. He used to say he could never remember going to a place unless he got thrown out of it.”

“Does…?” Merlin is silenced by Arthur’s finger pressing against his lips.

“Sh, last round.”

Merlin is certain it’s going to be something stupid. All the others were. He’s had fun though.

“You’ll be given a character with their opening line and the order in which they speak. The rest is ad lib.”

“Please don’t make me a girl,” Merlin mumbles.

“We have Cinderella, Conniving Stepmother, Prince Charming and his footman. Pretend the story has occurred as usual until we reach this scene. Stepsisters have tried on the shoe, bad luck blah-diddy-blah now the Stepmother is about to have her turn. Take it from your lines.”

“You haven’t given us cards yet,” the female Aggie reminds the adjudicator.

Merlin peeks through one eye at his card, as if that will make it better. It must work because he isn’t a girl. “Footman,” he says and shows the card to Arthur.

“Charming,” Arthur replies and flashes Merlin his card, typical.

Merlin has the opening line. “Did Gwaine write this?”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

The players follow the basic stage directions on their card so Cinderella Aggie weeps in a corner, Stepmother Aggie stands beside the chair – which apart from a tissue box ‘slipper’ is the only prop – Merlin kneels in front of the chair and Prince Arthur stands behind him.

“Really my lord, I’ve been on my knees all day, can I not take a moment to stand to my full height?” Merlin reads it from the card so everyone knows this tosh isn’t coming from inside his head.

“I see what you mean,” Arthur murmurs as Step-Aggie reads her line. Once the crap lines are out of the way the four players have fun messing about with the fairy tale. Cinderella insists the tissue box doesn’t fit.

“I’m telling you I know my Jimmy Choo’s. Is this some black market rip-off?” She (who is actually a he) accuses footman-Merlin, who has so far been used as a foot stool and a step-ladder for characters to climb on while changing an imaginary light bulb.

“I think you’ll find, you dolt of a servant, that that is my shoe.” Arthur plonks his backside into the chair, kicks off a shoe, flings the exposed sock into the audience and wiggles his toes in the air. “Hast thou beholden such a regal foot before?”

“Four times my lord, all upon the same pig.”

Arthur pushes his foot into Merlin's face and Merlin slaps it away with a grimace.

“Plenty of toe jam to spread on your morning toast my lord.”

“What shall you do if that shoe dost fit your own foot fair Prince?” Step-Aggie asks.

“I shall have no choice but to marry myself, for by royal decree did I declare to wed the one…”

“So glad that didn’t fit me now, you don’t half go on,” Cinder-Aggie says with a roll of (his) her eyes.

“Who am I kidding? I wouldn’t have married either of you hags even if the shoe had fit for I have fallen irreversibly, irrevocably …” he leaps to his feet.

“Oh god, he’s a Twihard. Stake him with the shoe!” Step-Aggie grabs the tissue box.

“…in love with my manservant!” With that Arthur dips Merlin to one side and kisses him.

Merlin kisses him back, a teeny tiny little, before Cinder-Aggie beats Prince-Arthur over the head with the tissue box and the three of them fall on the stage in a heap.

“Who in sod’s name is going to remove these corpses?” Step-Aggie asks angrily, nudging Cinder-Aggie with her toes. The adjudicator calls time.

“Darn it, you’re still a toad,” Merlin says dejectedly as Arthur helps him up, and Education are declared victorious by a single point.

“I knew we’d win.” Arthur claps Merlin's back proudly. “Thanks for the loan of your boyfriend, Gwaine!” he calls into the audience.

“Don’t make a habit of it!” Gwaine replies with a grin at Merlin.

Merlin grins back.

Tonight was brilliant.

#### 37\. What’s on Your Mind

Gwen stares at Merlin instead of eating her selected dining hall breakfast. She’s been giving him increasingly creepy looks since the Theatres Sports challenge.

“Am I growing antlers?” Merlin asks.

“Not a soul made a fuss.”

“…That solves everything. Cheers Gwen.”

“I kiss Arthur in private and the gates of hell appear. He kisses you in front of scores of people, including your boyfriend of almost a year and nothing is said apart from ‘don’t make a habit of it’. Why?”

“Because kissing me is dangerously addictive?”

“Why did war break out among the household when Arthur and I locked lips but when you two…”

Merlin thinks he sees where this is heading. “It was pretend Gwen,” he insists before muttering, “like the others.”

“Like the others when he was your date, you mean?” Gwen asks her question softly but her tone isn’t particularly friendly.

“When he pretended to be my date, you mean.”

This response seems to appease her and Gwen begins eating. “That’s what he said too. You’re both very good at pretending. Had me convinced…”

Merlin pretends he isn’t aware of her pointed tone or the ache caused by Arthur’s opinion that an evening with Merlin is nothing special, unimportant, bullshit. “That’s what won us a booklet of Union vouchers each. Arthur will probably offer you his.” How can he be so kind, cruel, and gorgeous at the same time? Sexy smarmy git!

Gwen ignores his interruption. “For a while I believed you actually didn’t care for each other. It must be exhausting, all this pretending.”

“Do you intend to make a point or are you having too much fun torturing me with verbal barbs?”

“The way you two watch out for each other…” Gwen gestures politely with the handle of her fork while placing neatly folded bacon into her mouth.

“As friends do,” Merlin counters with equally good manners.

Gwen shakes her head, lips stern as she finishes her mouthful. “No. It goes deeper than that. The more you drag this out with Gwaine the more pain…”

“You may have missed this while helping Arthur solve his sexuality conundrum and subsequently shacking up with Lancelot, Guinevere, but Gwaine and I happen to love each other.”

“Not the way…”

“This Arthur/Merlin romance of yours is imaginary Gwen. What I have with Gwaine is real.”

“If the three of you believe that then you’re all idiots. But what would I know? I’m only the female servant!” Gwen stands haughtily, lifts her plate, and eats the rest of her breakfast on the way out.

“Favoured employee!” Merlin calls after her back.

#### 38\. Take a Walk

Merlin knew it. Things had been too good to be true for several weeks and now, in the final week of exams he is told he missed a major electronics assessment.

How did he fail to see that one when he went through his student diary and wall-planner?  
You were at Gwaine’s when the package arrived, and kept forgetting to take the delivery notice to the post office and collect it because you were obeying your cock!  
Sounds accurate.

So now he sits in his claustrophobic cell surrounded by different size boxes of electronic fiddly bits. The resistor is living up to its name and won’t plug into the pre-fabricated circuit board. Merlin is tempted to peg it across the room, out the window, across campus.

He sags back in his chair, drags his fingers through his hair and wonders how he’s going to get out of this.

He’s blowing this out of proportion, surely. Take time away from the source of stress, reflect, then return and re-engage. It worked before. He can’t call Gwaine for a night out this time because it’s Sunday afternoon. Plus Gwaine’s been having exam stress of his own. The partying lifestyle that served him consistently for years has bitten him on the arse, bitten both of them on the arse.

That isn’t entirely correct and Merlin knows it. They both wasted a lot of time adjusting to being part of a meaningful relationship, mistakenly making it the be all and end all rather than just another element of everyday life. Merlin gets what Gwen meant about the difference between being in love and being in each other’s pockets. His first adult relationship isn’t that at all, it’s juvenile. Gwaine’s ‘cock struck fledgling’ – that’s how Arthur referred to Merlin once and brutal as it was, he’d been right. They were getting there though, weren’t they? You don’t turn eighteen and suddenly know how to be an adult the way a twenty five year old knows.

Merlin folds his torso forward in his chair and breathes for a while, arms crossed over his lap, forehead touching his knees. All these new friends yet he sometimes feels as alone as the day he arrived. He needs to get out, go for a walk and let the afternoon air dislodge his melancholy cobwebs.

He leaves his room and sees Arthur about to knock on Gwen’s door.

“I thought you two said that was a mistake?” Merlin's words slice the air like a plane removing a thin layer of wood.

“It was, big mistake. Lancelot appears all calm and forgiveness but there’s nasty stuff lurking under there. He just maintains his temper… Are you alright?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Arthur steps away from Gwen’s door and towards Merlin. “That will be there later but you, you’re grey is the only way to describe it. Are you prone to migraines? Morgana…”

“Just stressed,” Merlin admits. 

“I know what you need then. Come on.” Arthur leads Merlin down the corridor.

“Gwen?”

“Needs me to read through what we both hope is the final draft of her inquisitorial report. I’ll do it later. Word of advice Merlin, if that woman asks you to help with an assessment: say no.”

Merlin smiles tightly. It’s the best he can do under current circumstances.

“Walk or drive?” Arthur asks.

“Walk, as long as it isn’t into town.” Merlin doesn’t ask where they’re going. He doesn’t care as long as it’s away from the mess in his head. Arthur surprises him by talking about his car.

“Edna was my mother’s – that’s how she referred to the car. Father kept it in storage, along with everything of Mother’s after she died. When he bought me a car I asked to have Edna instead. Mother’s tapes were still in the glove box, a mixed tape in the player. The first thing I did when I started her up was rewind the cassette to hear the last song my mother listened to. Gwaine thinks I’m an idiot for wanting such an unsexy auto. He has memories of both his parents, as does Lancelot. The songs my mother chose to listen to every day – that’s how I get to know her. Have you called yours lately?”

“Haven’t really had time,” Merlin replies. He didn’t expect to miss her so much. “I haven’t really told her about things. Mum used to make me talk to her about everything. That’s where I get it I suppose,” he adds. This smile isn’t as tight as the recent one. Arthur smiles back. “I don’t want her asking questions that I don’t want to answer.”

“Definitely avoid Guinevere then.” Arthur huffs and looks away. “You’re just as bad.”

“What was the song?”

“Pardon?”

“The last song your mother listened to in the car.”

“Careless Whisper by George Michael. Gwaine prefers the Seether cover version. I believe they should be shot, it’s a travesty.”

A half chuckle escapes Merlin's lips.

“If that’s preceding a cheap shot along the lines of ‘and it took you how many years to realise you’re Gay?’ you can turn back now.”

“My Mum reckons the same thing – about Seether – says it lacks the emotional impetus of the original. I heard the Seether version first. Don’t know why she gets her knickers in a knot over it when she didn’t mind Robbie Williams covering Freedom.” They walk silently for a while, travelling through separate thoughts along the same path. “I think it’s inaccurate to say ‘realise’ you’re Gay.”

“You said ‘decide’ a number of weeks ago.”

“You were being an arse. It seemed sudden, to me anyway, not so much to your friends apparently. It’s more like you looked everywhere else until you couldn’t avoid it anymore and then POW there it was in your face.”

“Like an airbag – that’s pretty close to how it felt too. I crashed into the fact that Gwen isn’t as close to what I’m looking for as I thought she was and “poof” went the airbag.” Arthur’s use of gesture and facial expression accompanying his analogy make Merlin laugh. He feels better already.

And a little bit worse.

He knows precisely what he wants now. He wants someone who’ll be serious, laugh, goof around, dance, and kiss the way Arthur did with him at graduation – but mean it.

“You’ll never guess what else mother had in Edna’s console. Should’ve told you this the first time we met, seeing as you mentioned it while we danced.”

“What?” Merlin dips deeper into worse. Everything had been perfect and unguarded for a shining moment while they danced, before Merlin retreated from the warm, peaceful, comfort of Arthur’s shoulder.

“Complete cassette recordings of The Goon Show and Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – the original radio serials.”

“They’d be worth heaps! You clearly developed your deranged sense of humour in utero.”

“Don’t know what they’re worth in money terms, don’t care. I already copied everything onto USB and keep her ones in a safe. My French mother was a British humour fangirl.”

“Who danced with the Bolshoi Ballet? You are such a con artist.”

“All those things are true. You know more about me than you think you do,” Arthur adds under his breath and Merlin sees where they’re headed.

“What do I need at your house?”

“You’ll see.”

Merlin looks at Arthur’s profile and thinks that what he needs is right here. “Arthur?”

“This isn’t another opportunity to exploit our friendship for fun or profit, I promise.”

Merlin nods and pretends to be relieved. Stupid Gwen and her stupid imaginary romances, giving him stupid ideas.

#### 39\. Dream Date

Arthur tells Merlin to hang up his coat, fiddles unsuccessfully with his mp3 speaker dock then disappears down the hallway.

Merlin feels like a dweeb. He keeps his coat on and sits against the back of the couch. Confusion adds to the dweeby feeling when Lancelot emerges, summons romantic music from the dock, says goodbye, and leaves the house. Gwaine appears, reluctantly it seems. Merlin could be wrong but it looks like Arthur’s pushing the small of Gwaine’s back.

“Can’t either of you do what you’re told?” Arthur complains. He drags the boyfriends together until they get the hint, and then he leaves too.

Merlin and Gwaine stand with a hand on each other’s waist with the other on their partner’s shoulder. They sway stiffly at first because they’ve been forced into this. Merlin has danced with Gwaine at clubs in town and at the student bars but not close, slow, and romantic. Not like this. Things start to relax during the first song. Their limbs lose their stiffness after the second. They kiss once, briefly and draw closer.

Merlin eventually feels comfortable enough to wrap his arms completely around Gwaine, rest his head on Gwaine’s shoulder where it curves into his neck, and close his eyes. He breathes deeply. Arthur was so right.

“I need this,” he admits in a hoarse whisper and turns to kiss Gwaine’s neck.

Gwaine doesn’t move. He isn’t responding at all to the music or to Merlin. “This isn’t me. What you need, this mushy stuff – it isn’t me.”

“What, mushy stuff…?” Merlin suddenly feels heavy all over.

“My idea of romance is what we’ve been doing. That night you called and suggested pretending it was a first date, chips and gravy night, seductive play. Soppy songs and slow dancing – that’s the sort of shit Arthur goes for. I hate it.”

Merlin uncurls his limbs, stands straight, and steps out of Gwaine’s empty embrace. “Why bother then?” he asks.

“I hoped it would be different with you.”

“Right.” Merlin’s glad he didn’t take his coat off. “You were stretching it out to the holidays, or?”

“I was doing the same thing you were, trying to make this work! There’s three ways we can do this. We admit we’ve given it all we can, try and remain friends. Or, I say ‘go home Merlin’ and we do our best to avoid each other. Or we have an all-out row.”

“Over a slow dance?” All that effort we put in. Merlin has thought about saying ‘no more’ before but never thought it would actually come to this. Not now we’ve found our equilibrium

“What we had was great Merlin, most of the time, but it wasn’t true.”

Gwaine’s words are like a sword lodged between Merlin’s ribs. He can’t breathe properly around the indescribable pain.

Gwaine has no morals – is this a line? – you aren’t part of the pattern – let them have their romance – they bring out the best in each other – it wasn’t true

“None of it was true and I’m just another gullible idiot to make fun of later. Your friends helped lure me in. You all kept feeding me line after line!”

“I mean that we bullshit each other on a daily basis trying to keep this great, pretending it can become exactly what we need. You’ve got to be equally tired of it.”

“Just admit that you’re tired of me and it’s time to move on to your next conquest!”

“What’s tedious is waiting for you and Arthur to tell me why the fuck there’s this wall of stuff around you. Not a wall – a moat, surrounding an island that you both retreat to, leaving the rest of us stranded on the outer bank, scratching our heads and wondering what the hell is going on. Before you think of a lie, remember how honest I’ve been with you. I saw how you reacted to each other when I gave you my phone number. I figured you said nothing because he warned you about me, but when you knew this was serious – what’s the connection Merlin?”

Merlin assembles the phrases in his mind but doesn’t get to say them.

“I’ll tell you Gwaine. Go home with Guinevere, Merlin.” Arthur’s voice is firm. “I’m the one who asked you to lie.”

“When did you…?” When did he come home? What’s Gwen doing here?

“Go home Merlin.”

“I’d rather hear it from Merlin,” Gwaine insists.

Merlin is divided between maintaining the fantasy quality of the night with Arthur and discarding the barrowful of manure he’s been pushing for almost a year. Neither action can preserve his pride so he chooses to tell the truth. “It wasn’t real. He pretended to be my date but none of it was real.” Except the way I kissed him and sought permission to call him again.

“It looked real,” Gwen says from behind Arthur.

“Why don’t we invite everybody in?” Gwaine opens his arms in mock invitation. “Arthur can make tea.”

“It wasn’t real Guinevere.”

Merlin can’t read Arthur’s expression. “What do you want from me? I know it wasn’t real Arthur. I could hardly forget with you reminding me how much I was paying you every time I came close to believing our own bullshit!”

“You made him pay you?” Gwen is disgusted, Gwaine astonished. Arthur doesn’t notice them.

“Me? You were the one who made sure I knew I was only a date for hire. I tried to kiss you, genuinely wanted to kiss you and you asked me how much…!”

“You said if I wanted to top it off with a snog it cost extra.”

“No, you said that. If you hadn’t talked over me, as usual, you would have heard: if you want to top it off with a snog we can get it over with now, ditch these arrogant tosspots and perhaps go somewhere else, without the bollocks. You made me feel like a low-class prostitute!”

“HELLO! This is supposed to be MY break up with Merlin here!”

“Yeah I get it Gwaine, I’m going.” Merlin keeps his eyes on the wall as he sidles past Gwen to the front door. He aggressively shrugs a hand off his shoulder, he doesn’t care whose it is. He doesn’t care to know why Gwen and Arthur suddenly appeared.

He’s out in the late afternoon air. It’s over. The lying and tiptoeing between truths is all done with. No boyfriend, no friends, no chance of assembling that stupid circuit according to that diagram before his extension expires. Instant fails all around and all because he admitted to Gwaine he needed a deep, slow romantic cuddle.

He needs one even more now.

Merlin turns his mobile phone to silent, ‘as if anybody but Mum’s going to call.’

He takes as long as he can to walk off the emptiness, trying to fill it with gravel through the soles of his shoes.

#### 40\. Try Whistling This

The resistant resistor sits on the window ledge, entirely at Merlin's mercy. He may yet flick it out to fall four storeys. It all depends on how the other pieces fit together, much like life at the moment.

Not that Merlin is contemplating throwing himself out the window. He is considering dropping out, working for at least six months and then reapplying at a different campus. Start again, get it right this time.

He should have just said ‘yep’ and walked away when Gwaine gave him the opportunity. Then at least they’d still be friends. Merlin enjoyed being around Gwaine and not merely because Gwaine made him feel fun, sexy, loved, the opposite of everything he’d felt since Will was taken away.

“I loved you,” he whispers as he attaches the last LED. Those flashing antlers, they’d taken turns wearing them on a number of occasions. “But not enough,” he admits with a groan as he stretches in his chair. He better head to the dining hall before it closes. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast.

He commands the resistor to stay as he shrugs on the denim jacket that once belonged to his father. Merlin doesn’t wear it often, had in fact debated for three days on whether to even bring it. At times in the recent past wearing his father’s jacket provided an adequate substitute for the physical human comfort he sorely needed and it does so now. It’s sad knowing the only hug he’s going to get is from an item of clothing left behind when the man who first wore it deserted his wife and child without a word. When Merlin was younger he believed the dragon embroidered so vividly on the back had the magical ability to protect the jacket’s wearer. Then he’d worn it to a school disco and been beaten up for being a poof, which swiftly shattered that childish delusion.

Turning to lock his door, he sees an envelope taped to it at eye level – if you’re as short as Gwen. His hand does a kind of hokey-pokey before taking the thing off the door. It doesn’t take him long to read the note inside: Hey there you, love from Gwen. X x o O

It’s enough to make him smile and feel a smidgeon warmer inside. He tucks it into the inside pocket of his father’s jacket and by the time he reaches the dining hall he’s whistling that whistling song from The King and I.

#### 40\. Satisfaction

The thing goes in! Yaaayyy!

Once he connects the switch he can hand that sucker in, cram for his final exam, and go home.

Merlin will be coming back for a second year. Oh yeah!

He does a piss-poor imitation of James Brown and sings ‘I feel good, like I knew I would’ as he packs.

#### 41\. Ring, Ring

Merlin's mobile doesn’t sing silly snippets of songs, or vibrate, or ring at all while he’s at his mother’s. He doesn’t expect it to.

He and Gwen said ta-ta for now rather than goodbye because they’ll still be neighbours and have at least one more pedagogy subject together. No-one from the house will contact him, what possible reason could they have? Let’s see, um, none? That’s right, you win, pick a prize. All of these reasons stop him caring that the phone went flat while on silent and that he left its charger at Gwaine’s. Gwen brought his clothes around after she did their last lot of laundry. She knew better than to say or ask anything, just handed them over and gave him a hug. He won’t know what else he left behind until he goes looking for it.

Mum knows about his heartbreak now, which helps a bit. She doesn’t baby him which is a surprise. He can see that she wants to sit with him on the couch or cuddle him like she did after the mess with Will. The unfallen tears in her eyes on his behalf prompt him to give her a hug.

“I love you Merlin.”

“I know.”

“I wish I could say this will never happen to you again, but it’s better to love.”

Mum never says ‘better to have loved and lost’ because she believes that adage is complete tosh. Merlin prefers her version. It’s always better to love.

“I had to cancel the internet,” Mum apologises.

“Guess I’ll have to get my porn the old fashioned way.”

Mum grumbles and flicks his bottom with a dish towel. Merlin laughs. He’s missed her terribly.

A stranger repeatedly rings the doorbell three days before Merlin is due to return to university. They can always tell when it’s someone who hasn’t been to the house before because they find the novelty doorbell a novelty instead of a pain in the arse.

“Merlin, blond woman for you,” his mother calls.

“Pretty sure I ordered the red-head,” he replies on his way from the kitchen. “Elena?”

“Yes, Hunith has electricity and no, he’s not dead,” Elena says into her phone and hangs up. “Hello Merlin. May I come in, or you come out or something?”

“Um, in I guess. Are you spying on me?”

“Yes.”

Merlin waits for Elena to say more. She doesn’t. Merlin doesn’t know what to say.

“You aren’t a very good host,” Elena says eventually.

“Pardon me for not knowing the proper etiquette for entertaining spies in one’s own home.”

Elena laughs and then there’s more silence for a while. “Pardon me for saying this, but I’m jolly glad you and Gwaine broke up.”

“Is he tending your bar now?”

“He’s a brilliant barista and barman, always has been. Takings double whenever he takes his shirt off,” she replies with enthusiasm. “University is not the natural habitat for a Gwaine.”

“I’ve never seen a Gwaine in the wild.”

“Well you wouldn’t, they’re mostly found in pubs, strip clubs and casinos.”

“Is there a point to this?”

“Stop ignoring him. Send him a hate text if you must…”

“My phone’s been flat since before I left campus. The charger’s somewhere in his room.”

“Email…”

“Mum removed the internet from her telephone plan while I was gone.”

“No excuses Merlin. He never stopped thinking about you since the first time you met.” Elena touches the screen of her phone in different directions. “This does refer to you, doesn’t it?” She passes it to Merlin for him to read. “He broadcast that to all three of us, and even Morgana.”

Went out with a spitfire with delightful dimples. Best night of my life & worst. I need to find someone as easy to talk to & be around, who dances, kisses, smiles & laughs like that – but actually enjoys my company. There was one perfect moment where I thought we cut through the façade while we danced. Soon learned the feeling wasn’t mutual. As confused as ever, bloody George Michael on the way home didn’t help: ‘I’m never going to dance again, the way I danced with you’. Shoot me & get it over with. Why couldn’t Mother be a fan of Meat Loaf instead?

“Why did you keep saying ‘he’?” Merlin asks to cover how this message affects him, also to stop him reading it again – and again. He thought Elena had still been talking about Gwaine. 

“Because we both know exactly who I’m talking about. We both know why it was never going to work for him and Gwen or you and Gwaine.” She sings some lines from Careless Whisper to illustrate her point. “Guilty feet have got no rhythm, though it’s easy to pretend, I know you’re not a fool. The two of you are on your third and final chance to make a proper start of this, don’t waste it. And you’re supposed to offer spies something to drink just like you would any other unexpected guest.”

“Ah, would you like a drink Elena?”

“No thank you Merlin. I’ll be off now. You’re supposed to walk me to the door like you would a normal person.”

“I don’t think any of you are normal,” Merlin replies.

“Which is why you fit right in,” Elena says brightly. “I invited Hunith to Greece for the Christmas season. You better come with her, cramp her style.”

“Goodbye Elena.”

“Oh, Arthur doesn’t know I kept that email. Feel free to tell him I showed it to you. Keeping everything bottled up isn’t healthy.”

Merlin waits until the door is closed to smile. He likes Elena.  
Arthur feels the same way I do, we want the same thing.  
Merlin wishes he’d brought his phone charger.  
Three days until I see him again and try to sort this out  
Three—long—days.

Then his mother scalds her hands while trying to dodge a sneak mouse attack on the way to the sink with a large pot of boiling water. Merlin's second year of university will have to wait another week.

#### 42\. Message to My Girl

Merlin dumps his crap in his dorm room and heads straight to the computer lab. Timetables are being emailed from now on and it would help if he knew where he needs to go tomorrow.

His spam filters are still working so his inbox only contains four revised schedules, the last bearing the subject line: this better be the final version. On a whim, Merlin checks the junk folder to see what kind of stupid ads became attached to his email address. There are the usual invitations to meet singles in his area, get a better home loan, work from home or enhance his sexual performance.

The ‘Brown-eyed handsome man’ tag reminds him of Gwaine. Memories of Gwaine inevitably lead to memories of Arthur and the thoughts that wouldn’t go away.

One subject line about eighteen messages down isn’t a lure but it snares Merlin's attention more than the one that blares HOT HUNKS.

Hint taken

What? He checks the sender’s details. Oliveras794384peopleusemyname@aol.com

Merlin reckons that’d be a bitch to type in repeatedly as he adds it to his contacts before opening the message. Merlin's eyes flit from subject line to emptiness. Familiar flowers of pain open here and there. Why? He checks the details, sent at 3:19am yesterday morning, and then scans his various folders. There’s nothing else. His security settings sent everything from unfamiliar contacts directly to the junk folder which is swept clean every forty eight hours.

Two days too late to know why Arthur sent him two words.

If Merlin was a fatalist he’d take this to mean he and Arthur were never meant to be. Merlin has come to believe destiny is shaped by the individual rather than the other way round. He re-opens the message and chooses reply.

After three minutes all he has is a subject line: Late returns & overzealous email security

All the things he wants to say fight for dominance in his head:  
 _We should have talked about this from the start._  
If you wanted to see me again why didn’t you say yes when I asked if I could call you?  
I kept your number because I never truly stopped thinking about you.  
We want the same thing.  
Gwaine…

The loop always sticks on Gwaine. Busy backspace button.  
I tried to love Gwaine the way I want to love you

He can’t put that, too soon. How soon is too soon? How late is too late? Merlin enters the following:

Dear Miss Manners,  
How long should I wait after breaking up with my boyfriend to tell his friend that I might be in love with him?  
The way we laughed and danced, the way his kiss lingers on my lips whenever I close my eyes, even the way we argued – I fear these things will stay with me forever, but only in my  
memory.

And hits send before he ruins it or chickens out. Then he logs out and walks away to prepare for a new year of study.

#### 43\. Take a Chance on Me

Déjà vu

Merlin is late for his second day, which should be his seventh day of lessons. The subject, of course, is Pedagogy 2A. The closest, most easily accessible empty seat is next to Arthur. This time Lancelot is piggy-in-the-middle between Arthur and Gwen. Merlin considers taking the seat eleven rows down but then remembers the Christmas conversation about his bum, and wordlessly sits next to his favourite former boy for sale.

“Perhaps you should ask Miss Manners how to avoid being tardy,” Arthur says quietly and hands over a course outline.

“Perhaps Miss Manners would care to discuss appropriate time management strategies over generic snack foods in my dormitory this afternoon?”

“Perhaps,” Arthur replies simply.

They glance askance and exchange private smiles small enough to have gone un-noticed if they hadn’t been secretly paying such close attention to each other for more than a year.

#### 44\. Tell Me

“Why is this so stupidly awkward?” Arthur asks as they walk through the door into Merlin's room.

Merlin has in fact been thinking precisely the same thing. “I know,” he smiles. “We’ve known each other how long and I’m nervous about just talking to you.”

Or simply sitting at opposite ends of a tiny room with no clue on how to proceed, which is what they spend several impossibly long minutes doing.

Arthur sits with his bum against the windowsill, almost silhouetted in the late afternoon light. Merlin sits on the corner of his bed nearest the door thinking that Elena was wrong. They’ve already used all the chances they’re going to get. I should have kissed you at Gwaine’s instead of arguing after you said you genuinely wanted to kiss me.

“It’s too late, isn’t it?” the shadow of Arthur asks. “I should have told you, or said your name when I turned around and saw you in the lecture theatre. We could have started differently then.”

“I don’t want it to be too late. You knew what I needed the day Gwaine and I broke up, just not who I needed to be dancing with. I still need that Arthur.”

Arthur moves from the window and Merlin expects him to leave. Instead he stops in front of Merlin, sits on the floor and talks to Merlin's shoes.

“My name is Arthur Tristan Pendragon. I am the son of the British Ambassador to the US, Uther Pendragon and former Ballerina for the Bolshoi Ballet, Ygraine Du Bois. I didn’t want Gwaine knowing I attended your formal dinner at all let alone for money because he asked me to be his date for all of our school dances – and I always said no. We used to dance in our room while we talked about everything that worried us. Sometimes we’d kiss. It never went further but I often promised that once we were older and I felt brave enough, he’d be the one to teach me. I didn’t feel brave enough until that night with you, but while we danced you began behaving the way I feared Gwaine would so I hid behind the character you paid for. I didn’t want you dating Gwaine because as you first walked down those amphitheatre steps he declared you were the one he’d use to make me realise what I’d been turning down for years. It didn’t matter what you thought of me, I liked you too much to let that happen to you. But you wouldn’t listen and Gwaine refused to be threatened. He was however willing to make a deal. If he misused you, all financial and legal support would be withdrawn. Believe me, Gwaine needed both.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

“That was my half of the stipulated terms.”

“Gwaine’s?” Merlin believes he is about to hear that he never meant anything to Gwaine.

“He felt proving himself a gentleman by treating you with the respect you deserve for a given time period should earn him a trophy for the same duration. I assured Gwaine that you’d win him over and make a better man out of him. He’d no longer need a trophy boyfriend because he would have found a real one. Gwaine had no intention of falling in love with you Merlin, but fall he did. As did I, although I didn’t understand what my ...fondness for – no, interest in you meant until Guinevere and I made that dreadful mistake.”

“It didn’t sound too dreadful from this side of the wall.” Merlin can’t believe his mind chose that point to focus on and respond to. So many details and questions and he leaps onto the noises Arthur made while having it off with Gwen? Stupid, grubby mind!

“It wasn’t Guinevere I was thinking of during the successful bits,” Arthur admits quietly. “In the morning she said ‘you paid more attention to them than I did, than to me for that matter. You should have been on that side. I’m just the stunt double.’”

Merlin remembers what Gwen said in Elena’s limo: ‘If these two hadn’t been going at it next door…’

“I’m sorry Merlin. I felt my history with Gwaine was none of your business, and vice-versa, particularly when you were happy together.”

Merlin understands that part. Things with Gwaine became strained enough while they were oblivious. Knowing all the facts would have made their break-up even uglier. “I wasn’t any different to Gwaine, was I, or your father. I paraded you in front of those turds from my school, ‘look what I’ve got’ and didn’t bother telling you what I thought of you.”

“You gave your opinion quite frequently, none of it particularly flattering.”

“Only when you were being an arse and ruined the good bits by reminding me that it was a business transaction, not an actual date.”

“I was only following your lead!”

They move about the room as they argue it out, clearing away a year’s worth of emotional debris in the process. Arthur puts an end to it by angrily tossing a roll of notes onto Merlin's bed and declaring “Here’s your refund! Now that you haven’t paid me, your grad officially becomes our first date.”

“Oh no you don’t! I want a proper first date with you, Arthur Arrogant Arse, not retouched memories of Boy for Sale Oliver. I want you to smile at me, dance with me and kiss me because you want to, not because you think you have to.”

“I wanted to then you dimwit!”

“I didn’t know that! I need to know.” The correct words refuse to do Merlin's bidding so these will have to do. “I need to know you’re doing those things with me, actual me, not some phony.”

Arthur takes Merlin's left hand in his right and puts his left hand on Merlin's waist. “Do you want to dance with me though Merlin, or some artificial, fantasy version?”

“Which is which again? I can’t tell the difference.”

“Have to be a smartarse,” Arthur murmurs as they dance slowly and without music in what little space is available. They start close and get closer. Arthur pauses, but doesn’t distance himself the way Gwaine did before telling Merlin it was over. “This doesn’t feel right.” His left arm curves completely around Merlin's back as his right hand gently guides Merlin's head onto Arthur’s left shoulder. His cheek rests against Merlin's head and the edge of his breath travels down the back of Merlin's neck and into his shirt collar. “Now this is us.”

“This is most definitely us,” Merlin agrees and snuggles closer.

#### 45\. The Real Thing

Kisses like this cannot be possible outside a dream.

Merlin and Arthur kiss long into the night in order to properly test this theory.

Their lips continually meet and part in unison. Their noses or chins bump occasionally but each accidental contact adds to the glory of the moment by providing opportunities to share whispers and smiles.

“Stay,” Merlin suggests. “I promise I won’t molest you without an invitation.”

“I’ll have to print some of those up.”

Arthur stays.

The waning night is spent sleeping close together with one or the other feeling the need to converse at irregular intervals. They wake up tired and Gwen leaves her room in time to see them sneak a kiss goodbye at Merlin's door before Arthur heads home for breakfast.

“That was fast,” she says to Merlin on their way to the dining hall.

“Hardly, it’s taken more than a year…”

“You weren’t talking before yesterday and he’s already slept over. Although those bags under your eyes suggest ‘slept’ is the incorrect verb.”

“There was none of that, thank you. There was more talking than sleeping because we had so much to sort out. We nearly broke up in the first five minutes.”

Gwen’s disapproval disappears and she expresses her sympathy, relief and then squeeful joy as Merlin lets her know some of what happened and how things stand now. Any lingering confusion will disappear in time, surely.

Merlin grumbles through the rest of his day, retires in an exhausted heap by early afternoon, and wakes up refreshed in time for breakfast.

“Is this what Love feels like?” Merlin asks the dust mites floating in the narrow sunbeam as he stretches his long and no longer weary limbs. Warm, light, tranquil, and strong – with a healthy dose of morning erection apparently. 

He smiles a natural, contented smile and realises that that is what Love feels like.

#### 46\. I Think I Love You

The worst thing about breaking up with Gwaine – aside from the unexpected pain of it all – is the absence of the Sunday morning routine. Merlin misses that more than Chips and Gravy Night and sex. Lord sex with Gwaine had been magnificent! What if it’s boring with Arthur? What if it never happens with Arthur at all?

Merlin is pretty sure it will – happen that is. ‘Boring’ doesn’t concern him as much at this stage. They are too busy figuring out what to keep from the past year’s acquaintance, what to adapt and what to discard entirely.

“You will be coming over for Sunday breakfasts, won’t you? Even though…” Arthur’s voice ceases but possible endings travel through the phone and into Merlin's head regardless.  
…Gwaine won’t be providing incredible coffee.  
…you haven’t tumbled out of Gwaine’s bed.  
…you didn’t spend the preceding Saturday night exchanging sperm samples with a resident.  
“…it won’t be the same,” Arthur concludes eventually.

“Have you given up attempting cryptic crosswords?” Merlin asks.

“No.”

Merlin is tempted to add ‘will you be naked?’ but doesn’t. “Then Sunday is guaranteed to remain my favourite day of the week.”

Things gradually become more comfortable between him and Arthur. The bashfulness that crept in dissipates, replaced by the familiarity that allows them to laugh and banter freely, and joined by steadily increasing, yet somehow delicious sexual tension. Merlin has no need to suppress thoughts of Arthur anymore. He can actually kiss him instead of merely dream about it. They kiss a lot when they’re alone. Merlin wants to kiss Arthur while they’re both naked, but that hasn’t happened yet. He’s afraid of jumping in and acting like a predator. Arthur’s worried that he’s spent so many years conditioning himself to see sex as a bad thing that he might never enjoy it – or so Gwen says. Merlin begins to worry that he doesn’t make Arthur horny enough to bother trying.

“Why do you only dress for breakfast when Merlin is here?” Lancelot asks Arthur one Sunday. “You aren’t so modest around Gwen.”

“Perhaps it isn’t modesty,” Gwen teases.

“It’s hardly showing off,” Lancelot counters with a grin.

“Shut up,” says Arthur.

Merlin is confused. Gwen laughs at them. Arthur avoids everyone’s eye and concentrates on drinking his tea. Lancelot’s coffee doesn’t measure up to Gwaine’s but it still surpasses dining hall sludge. Merlin comments on the fact that he’s never seen Arthur make coffee.

“He only likes it the way Gwaine makes it,” Lancelot explains.

“Like the girl who’ll only eat her father’s flame grilled chicken in Girl Interrupted?” Gwen asks.

The males in the room look at her with stern ‘what?!’ faces and she retreats into her dressing gown.

“That sounds a bit pervy,” Merlin observes and Arthur mutters about this being pick on Arthur day. “Seems like my entire life before Uni was pick on Merlin day,” Merlin confides. A brief under-the-table touch to his thigh from Arthur is comforting. The sight of his casual morning profile is captivating, arousing. Merlin wants to return the contact and ask if they can spend the rest of this morning somewhere private – Arthur’s room, perhaps.

“Can Lancelot borrow your car to drive me into town today, say, now?” Gwen asks.

“Take the bus.” Arthur fails to grasp what Merlin is immediately grateful for, Gwen is conniving to let them be alone in the house.

“We’ll have to wait around for another hour or so for the next one.” Her eyes gesture without subtlety in Merlin's direction. Arthur turns slightly pink.

“Keys are on the hook by the door. Harm Edna in any way and your heads will decorate the eaves.” He avoids looking directly at Merlin as Gwen drags the quietly grumbling Lancelot out of the kitchen. Lancelot quickens his pace to match Gwen’s after she murmurs in his ear. Merlin waits until he hears the car start and then he carefully reaches under the table for a safe spot near Arthur’s knee. “Sunday Breakfast isn’t code for Booty Call, Merlin.” Arthur doesn’t move away though.

“I know, but don’t you want to take this opportunity to make out, maybe a little?”

“Maybe a lot.”

Arthur’s room is different to Gwaine’s. The dimensions and colour of the walls are identical but the soft furnishings are solid colours rather than patterned and there are no posters of sports stars or Kylie Minogue above the bed. Text books are arranged neatly along the top of Arthur’s desk rather than dumped in a corner of the floor. Yesterday’s clothes – and possibly the day before that’s – are piled on a chair. The windowsill is lined with photographs in expensive frames, which Arthur frowns ponderously at before scooping them up while Merlin looks at one of a teenage girl in pink leotards performing a plie beside the ballet barre. A pink snood covers the serious bun crowning her head. Merlin has seen that same expression of focussed determination on Arthur’s face during pedagogy tutorials. Her eyes are the same colour. This must be Ygraine Dubois.

“Have you ever been told you’re beautiful?” Merlin asks as Arthur takes this last photo from his hands.

“I’m often told I resemble my mother, which equates to the same thing I suppose,” Arthur replies and carefully places all the pictures in a drawer.

Merlin doesn’t wait for Arthur to turn around before touching his face with one hand and obtaining a comfortable hold on his waist with the other. “Well they’re wrong, you’re more than that.” He brushes his lips across Arthur’s.

“You don’t have to seduce me Merlin, this is my room.”

“That wasn’t seduction you sexy smarmy git.”

“No? Shame, it was definitely working.”

Arthur’s cheeky smirk disappears as they kiss again. Their hands are on each other, moving slowly outside their shirts and through each other’s hair. Eventually, Arthur nudges the base of Merlin's nose with the tip of his until Merlin opens his eyes. Arthur looks up, gives Merlin's left bum cheek a suggestive squeeze and they communicate with their eyes. Their progress to Arthur’s bed is so smooth it could have been choreographed. They lie on their sides, face to face, lower arm beneath their partner’s head and begin kissing again while the opposite hands greet skin still hidden by clothing. Hips, lips and tongues communicate their increasing need for more intimate contact. Hands quicken their pace as they undo buttons, lower zips, fold back denim and slide inside underwear.

Merlin remembers the shock of that first touch of another guy’s cock and of Will’s hand on his and so isn’t surprised when Arthur breaks the kiss with a startled grunt and sneaks a look to ensure he’s holding Merlin correctly. Merlin's rather surprised to feel nervous in the role of more experienced partner. He knows how to do this, why is he worried about disappointing Arthur who has no other male to compare him too? Enjoy now, psycho-analyse later – stupid brain!

“Like this,” he whispers supportively when Arthur tries to include Merlin's balls in their exploration. He guides Arthur’s hand and models the action on Arthur’s body. They make individual sounds of pleasure and kiss again before pushing their hips forward and steadily pulling each other off. Arthur’s hands suddenly leave their post to grasp Merlin's bum as he rolls onto his back. Merlin rubs along the groove where thigh meets groin. The friction has no chance to become too much because they don’t last long. Merlin's head bows, his fringe rests on the pillow beside Arthur and his eyes close as he comes, softly exhaling his satisfaction against Arthur’s ear. Arthur makes a sound of pleasant surprise as the warmth of their combined orgasm spreads between them. Their mouths seek each other out and lock on. Tongues tussle and their embrace tightens.

“So…you’re properly gay then?” Merlin asks cheekily as they descend from the peak.

“Yes Merlin, I’m properly gay.” Arthur’s vocal tone is serious but his eyes show amusement.

“Good, because,” a brief meeting of lips precedes an affectionate gaze, “I think I love you.”

“Me too,” Arthur says quietly, nervously.

“That wasn’t after-sex banter Arthur. I mean it.”

“Me too.”

They bicker about who means it more seriously as they make themselves presentable. By the time they reach the kitchen and prepare a snack neither party thinks they love the other anymore – they know.

#### 47\. My Mistake

Merlin applies what he learned from his mistakes with Gwaine and works hard to maintain a healthy balance between study, lab assistant work, friends and Arthur. With the approach of winter, Lancelot and Arthur volunteer to coach a local under-16s girl football team. Gwen and Merlin waste Saturday afternoons pretending they enjoy the sport when they’re only there to observe their boyfriends. Arthur wears that look of focused determination as he takes the girls through pre-match warm up or explains their strengths and weaknesses at half time and again at the end. Lancelot gives the orders during play. There is plenty of moral support from all players and both coaches, praise whenever it’s deserved and no temper tantrums when someone stuffs up. The Griffins rapidly move from lowest on the competition ladder to somewhere in the middle as a result.

Merlin kisses and congratulates Arthur after the team’s fourth win in a row. One of the girls says “told you” in an aside to another as Lancelot collects the team’s gear. Some of the parents begin muttering, with one boldly declaring “who on earth cares?” before thanking Arthur and Lancelot for their efforts as usual. A handful of others confront them soon after.

“We would prefer Lancelot coach the team without your assistance from now on.”

“Club guidelines state a girls’ team cannot be alone with one male authority…” Lancelot begins.

“Elise will be withdrawn from this team if that faggot stays.” It gets worse from there.

“I’m sorry Arthur,” Merlin apologises for the third time on the drive back to campus.

“You’d think they’d be pleased, they can be sure Arthur’s not going to molest their daughters!” Gwen says tetchily.

“What, and I am?” Lancelot asks.

“Of course not…”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin says again.

“For God’s sake Merlin, shut up,” Arthur says flatly.

Merlin's ruined everything with a simple kiss.

#### 48\. Remember Me?

He avoids Arthur for three days. Arthur seems to be doing the same.

When the next pedagogy lecture comes around Merlin sits in the corner diagonally opposite his usual seat with Gwen, Arthur and Lancelot to put the greatest possible distance between himself and the one he let down. Gwen accuses him of being stupid later that afternoon. She must have camped outside his door specifically.

“I’m being sensible.”

“Nothing either of you do in regards to this relationship is sensible. Breaking up with Arthur won’t change the minds of those evil cows or get him reinstated.”

“I’m not breaking up with…”

“He certainly isn’t breaking up with you.”

“I am being stupid, aren’t I?” Merlin walks through a light fall of snow to the house where he spends most weekends. Lancelot lets him in. Merlin hovers inside the door. This was a stupid idea. He has nothing to say apart from sorry and Arthur didn’t want to hear it the first few times.

“Isn’t the partially closeted partner supposed to be the one who backs off in situations like this?” Arthur asks, stopping five strides away from Merlin.

“I’m not backing off. Well I am, but only to…” Merlin realises the flaw in his reasoning and stops.

“What, protect me?”

Merlin nods.

“I’ve spent years pondering the consequences of getting involved with somebody. If I hadn’t thought being your boyfriend was worth it I wouldn’t have tried contacting you twelve times a day after telling Gwaine the truth. I wouldn’t have bothered sending Elena around to make sure you were simply ignoring me rather than bleeding to death somewhere. She only went because she believes we stand a chance at being happy together.”

“I hope Elena’s right.” Merlin steps closer to Arthur. His hands find refuge in the back pockets of his jeans because they don’t know how to fix this either. “What will happen when your father finds out about us?”

“I won’t know until I tell him.”

“Have you told him you’re gay?”

“He’ll be in the UK for Christmas. I plan to tell him then.”

“Do you need, do you want moral support?”

“Like you provided on the weekend? No thank you.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin says in a small voice.

Arthur closes the gap between them and looks Merlin in the eye as his hands hold Merlin's face. “Thank you.” He kisses Merlin's lips briefly. Merlin's arms find their favourite position around Arthur.

“Why accept this apology but refuse the others?”

“This time you’re not sorry for kissing me.” Arthur’s lips are warm and soft, his embrace is warm and firm and Merlin has no problem standing for several long minutes simply kissing Arthur and being kissed in return.

“I don’t regret falling in love with you Arthur,” he says eventually. Arthur’s fingers play the hormonal xylophone on the back of Merlin's neck, which he hasn’t done since the night of Boy for Sale. It affects Merlin more powerfully now he knows Arthur means it. Merlin's eyes close and his involuntary gasp provokes a hormonal rumble deep in Arthur’s throat. Merlin opens his lips against Arthur’s throat to feel the sound and Arthur’s pelvis moves against him.

“Ready for something different?” Merlin murmurs and licks Arthur from Adam’s apple to chin as an unambiguous hint. Arthur’s hands lock tight in Merlin's hair, his mouth launches a passionate assault against Merlin's lips and he starts walking backwards to his room without releasing either hold. 

Merlin ensures Arthur is on his back on the centre of the bed and gets into position between Arthur’s legs as he kisses and touches his way down Arthur’s neck. They don’t talk. Arthur’s breathing changes tempo and depth in anticipation as Merlin presses his mouth over his navel. Arthur’s hips lift and Merlin smiles against the line of hair forming a track from chest to his intended destination because Arthur wants this as much as he does. Merlin doesn’t let eagerness overshadow the pleasurable build up. He wants to be Arthur’s fantasy lover as much as Arthur has been his. Dream about this moment Arthur, and never forget me.

The contact of Merlin's fingers, tongue, lips and breath along Arthur’s shaft makes it longer, broader. The head expands to emerge completely free of its foreskin and that’s when Merlin takes it into his mouth. Arthur’s wordless moan tells Merlin this feels amazing, the reflexive rise of Arthur’s hips requests more. The tickle of fingertips up and down the back of Merlin's neck is equally intimate, encouraging and arousing. Merlin looks up as he goes down on Arthur. Their eyes meet. I know you. Their eyes close simultaneously. Merlin bobs and sucks eagerly. Arthur’s hips roll and bounce along in the same motion as Merlin's move against the bed. Arthur’s hips pause and lift of their own accord so he comes deep in Merlin's mouth. This is no forceful jolt and Merlin doesn’t gag. Nor does he swallow as Arthur desperately grasps the hair at Merlin's nape. Arthur’s cum leaks from Merlin's lips as they open in response to his own orgasm. Arthur’s voice is a hushed ‘yes’ like the lightest breeze through long, dry grass. Merlin rests his chin on Arthur’s abdomen and hugs him. Arthur drapes one arm at an angle across Merlin's back while resting the opposite hand in Merlin's hair. 

Merlin's cheek bounces when Arthur carefully clears his throat. “I love you,” Arthur says after a slight pause.

“I know,” Merlin puts his chin in Arthur’s navel to look up at him as he replies, “I love you too.”

“You know?” There’s a hint of arrogance in the drop of Arthur’s voice, arch of his eyebrow and quirk of his lips.

“You’re coming out to be with me. Everything and nothing is going to change when you do, it’s a confusing time. You wouldn’t put yourself or your scandalous family through this for a fling.”

Arthur looks at Merlin as though he is a cryptic clue again. “You might be wiser than I give you credit for.”

“You mean I’m right?” Merlin asks with exaggerated surprise. Arthur laughs.

#### 49\. Words

Merlin and Arthur discuss lots of different things in bed on Saturday nights before, after or instead of making out.  
“Worst song ever,” Arthur wants to know.

“I Whip My Hair Back and Forth; worst movie.”

“Titanic; worst television genre.”

“Soap opera; worst food…” Mostly stuff like that but sometimes they get serious, like the first time they saw each other after Christmas.

“Father said ‘My daughter’s now a professional horse wanker, do you really think I give a damn if you’re getting it on with Gwaine?’ I told him about you…”

“Sorry, your sister’s a what?”

“Morgana breeds race horses. To prevent rivals stealing semen from her studs…”

Merlin laughed so hard Arthur threw a pillow at him and threatened to make him sleep on the floor.

At other times their discussions become intimate, like tonight when Arthur asks “How, when do you know who’s the bottom and who’s the top?”

“Trial and error I guess. Gwaine and I experimented together.” Merlin says it casually and leaves it at that.

“And…?” Arthur’s expression and the motion of his fingers on Merlin's shoulder-blade communicate his meaning.

“I didn’t mind being bottom, but I prefer top. I always top in dreams.” Perhaps this conversation will lead to something. No doubt Arthur can feel Merlin's hopes rising. “What about you?”

“Well if dreams are any indication then I am one twisted potato.” Arthur severs their embrace by rolling onto his back and putting his hands under his head.

Merlin's hopes fall. We’re never going to fuck! He flops back onto the other pillow in resignation. Arthur starts to chuckle unexpectedly. Merlin is too frustrated to enquire. He wants to throw off the arm sliding across his chest and ignore the way Arthur says his name. He can’t, not when Arthur slides a leg over as well.

“Forget dream interpretation, perhaps you could tell me what it means when the only way Gwen could get me to come,” Merlin is ready to kick Arthur out of his own bed until the sexy smarmy git continues in a more intimate whisper, “was to stick her finger up my bum.”

“What?” Merlin twists in Arthur’s limbs and slaps his shoulder. “You are such an arse!”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

“That you’re an arse?”

“Don’t be so literal. Maybe it’s time to experiment.” Arthur uses his arm, leg and body weight to bring Merlin on top of him. “Fuck me Merlin –hint, hint!”

Merlin takes the hint and over the next few hours they come to the conclusion that while Arthur may not be a complete arse, he is definitely a magnificent bottom.

#### 50\. Only the Beginning

“I don’t want the beginning to end,” Arthur admits one Sunday morning.

They lie diagonally across the bed. Arthur’s head is on a pillow, Merlin's head on Arthur’s chest with his ear directly over Arthur’s heart and they’re holding hands. Arthur’s other fingers wend different paths through Merlin's hair.

Merlin doesn’t want the beginning to end either, because what they have now is perfect.

 

{The End}


End file.
